P R 

5X02 
V46C3 



CASWALLON; ^-g^ 

THE "BHITOIS €miE¥. 



A TRAGEDY, 



IN riVE ACTS, 



BY C. E. WALKER, B. A, 

AUTHOR OF " WALIACK," A TltAGEDT. 



FIRST PERFORMED At 

THE THEA.TRE ROYAL, DRURY LANE, 

On Monday, January 12tb, 1829. 



PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY J. ROBINSON, 

Circulating Library and Dramatic Repository. 

1829. 






i^sn^^'^ 



¥4-4 



DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 
Drury Lane, 1829. 



ENGLISH. 

Roger de Mortimer, . . Mr', Aitken, 

Sir Cecil Ormsby, "^ Knights in f C. Jones, 

Sir Hugh de Lacy, I the service J J. Fining: 

Sir Armyn Fitz-Ed- f of Edward ) 

ward, . . J n. L Coo/ier. 

Audley, Thom/ison. 

Harcourt, ; , . . . Z,ee. 

Officers — Messrs. T. Brown, Brady, Cowen, and 
Rayner. 

CAMBRIANS. 

C as wall on, Mr. Young: 

Caradoc, . 7 Chiefs of the C Mude. 

Hoel, . . S Insurgents. \ Cathie. 

Mador, (a Bard) .... Younge. 
Leaders. — Messrs. Walsh, Willing, Jones, and Tol- 
kien. 
Bards. — Messrs. Bedford, Bland, Robinson, Nelson, 
.. ..Sheriff, 8^q^ . , 

Eva'^.l •"'.•*•:/•*::• : • ■ : ♦' Miss Phillifis. 
doervyt,* *• C •*•%•• ••.* .* . . Curtis, 

Scenc.'J-AV.iP'cfnWay C^stl,e'," and ih thv^ Environs of 
.'*' 'I •'« '.' ' '.' Bi\owdon. 



PREFACE. 

The following brief extract from Hume's History of Eng- 
land may be said to form the ground-work of the present 
Tragedy. " Edward (the 2d), besides other disasters, 
was also infested with a rebellion in Wales, and above 
all, by the factions of his own nobility." The condition 
of tlie unfortunate Combro-Britons, after the conquest 
of their country by the first Edward, and the death of 
their last sovereign, Lewellyn, appeared to present to 
the Author a suitable field for the construction of a Dra- 
matic Tale, It must be observed, however, that the in- 
cidents are for the most part fictitious, although it is af- 
firmed by historians that Lewellyn left an infant daughter, 
of which fact the Author has availed himself, as it appear- 
ed best to assist his purpose. 

The circumstance of the massacre of the Bards will be 
remembered by all those who have read Gray's admira- 
ble Ode on that subject. 

So much for the basis on which the Play was built. 
The Author would now beg permission to state a few 
facts resj^ecting it. And first, he would observe, that 
*• Caswallon" was written nearly seven years ago ; that 
in the spring of 1823 it was read, and he may add ap- 
proved of, by several gentlemen connected with the 
Theatres, both of Drury Lane and Covent Garden ; and 
that it remains scene for scene, and almost sentence for 
sentence, as it was originally composed. This may be 
unimportant to the public, but it is mentioned, lest the 
work in question should be supposed to have encroached 
upon the time which the Author owes to his present pro- 
fession. 

In conclusion, he would turn to those, whose efforts, 
he must feel convinced, have so mainly contributed to 
the success of his work. But — what shall he say ? The 
terms of obligation on such occasions have been long ago 
exhausted. Let each and all therefore concerned either 
in the production or the representation of "Caswallon" 
accept the sum and substance of more lengthy acknowl- 
edgments, when he offers them his sincere and cordial 
«' thanks:* 



PROLOGUE. 

"WKITTEir BY A I.ADT, AKD INTEITDED FOll THE TRAGEDT. 

Too oft the votary of the Stage complains 
That deep-wrought Tragedy's neglected strains 
No longer vibrate on the listening ear. 
Rouse the high thought, or wake the silent tear. 
But sure your plaudits scarce have died away. 
Since on these boards ye hail'd a genuine Play : 
Since here the Muse, with true poetic fire, 
Struck the deep sorrows of th' heroic lyre; 
And deeds of vanish'd ages to rehearse 
In ail the majesty of English verse, 
Bade the dark portals of the tomb unclose. 
While, at her potent spell, Rienzi rose ! 

Though with such merit ill-prepared to cope. 
One claim to favour still supports our hope. 
From ancient Britain's rich historic page 
Our Author culls materials for the Stage; 
What time wide-conquering Edward's stern com' 
Spread desolation o'er a sister land : — [mand 

That land, whose minstrel from the mountain's side, 
Dared mock th' exulting tyrant's crested pride ; 
O'er his arm'd legions scatter'd wild dismay — 
The land that's hallow'd by the muse of Gray, 

And sure that public, who in earlier years 
Calm'd the first tremor of his boyish fears. 
Will greet the bard who strives once more to bind 
In chains of sympathy the captive mind: 
Who paints from feeling's unexhausted source 
Of strong contending ties th' opposing force. 
The sterner cares which patriot bosoms feel, 
The lover's anguish, and the subject's zeal. 

But to the test : — the expected scenes appear -»• 
Caswallon speaks — and generous Britons hear, 



CASWALLON, 

OR 

THE BRITON CHIEF. 



ACT I.f 

Scene I. — Exterior of Conway Castle. 
Enter Mortimer and Audley. 

Mort. Beshrew me, but the tidings that thou 
bring'st 
Are no less strange than stirring, my good Audley. 
The king in arms! — The soft, eifeminate Edward 
In arms ! A victor, too. — 

jlud. A healthful victor. — 

At Chester town he sojourns: o'er whose gates. 
Glaring in ghastly row, are now beheld 
The heads of his discomfited enemies. 

Mort So, to thy high built hopes a long adieu, 
Thomas of Lancaster,— whose daring arm 
First held the lighted torch of discord up 
That through so many darkling years hath blazed 
The beacon of rebellion. Yet, my friend. 
Though from its pierced shrouds the son of Edward 
Undimm'd appear to break, in mid-air still 
Hangs a dark cloud that shall not pass away. 
What though the bolts of Lancaster fell harmless. 
My thunders now shall sound. — 

-^ud. And may the shafts 

Thou launchest strike more certain. As I think. 
The king suspects thee not; but yet, to build 
His confidence upon a surer basis. 
Might not some specious act be straight devised—? 
1* 



6 CASWALLON, [Walker. 

Mort. Thou hast forestalled my speech, or I had 
told thee 
How, by despair or something like it prompted, 
The Cambrian here again hath risen in arms. 
Whom, as 1 cannot, from the hate that still 
Hath lived between us, tie him to our cause, 
1*11 straight oppose, and with such furious zeal 
As shall destroy each doubt, if doubt indeed 
Of my fair faith have place, in Edward's breast. 

{A horn sounds) 

The warder's signal. See who come. — 

And. A troop 

That my hot haste outsped upon the road ; — 
Sir Cecil Ormsby, and Sir Hugh De Lacy, 
With young Fitz-Edward.— - 

Mort. How — Fitz-Edward here ! 

Audley, I hate that youth — that foundling slave, 
Who, not e'en worth a name, i' the monarch's smiles 
Suns his bright skin, and bears as haught a crest 
As though a line of emperors had produced him ! 
But hush — he comes.'^ — 

Enter Ormsby, De Lacy, and Fitz-Edward. 

Sir Cecil Ormsby, welcome.— 
And welcome, too, your gallant friends. — In sooth 
Our towers are much ennobled by the presence 
Of three so puissant knights. 

Orma. You do us honour—^ 

Mere, my good lord, in this your high report, 
Than our short stay will let us prove we merit. 

Mart. Mean you so soon to quit us ? 

De La. It must be. — 

We are hvX birds of passage, good my lord, 
That l)ece have lit to trim our rufHed plumes, 
Ere we take wing again. 

Orms. Yet first to do 

Our errand. What may we report to Edward 
Of thy hot neighbours h'ere—rough Arvon's sons ? 



Act I.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 7 

Quelled is the testy spirit that inflamed 

To desperate strife ; or yet within their breasts 

Smoulders the living fire? 

Mart. I must confess, 

Not wholly hath the flame burnt itself out. 
This very morning, as our spies inform us, 
A band of armed mountaineers were seen 
To move towards Snowdon, - 

Fitz-Ed. Armed mountaineers 

Tow'rds Snowdon, said'st thou ? 

De La. Aye ? 'Tis time indeed then 

These sparks were trodden out, or ere they set 
Our realms a-blaze again. 

Mort. Doubt not my care : 

Nor think rebellion e'er shall hold its course 
Unchecked, while Mortimer commands at Conway.— 
But how P — Your partner heeds us not. ( Observing 

Fitz- Edward^ who is in deefi thought. } He seems 
Quite lost. 

De La. A common failing. — His thoughts now 
I'll warrant me are in some shadowy dell, 
Or lady's bower, perchance, — 'mid faltered vows — 
'Mid fluttering hearts, clasped hands, and clinging 

lips. — 
Say I not rightly }—(To Fitz-Edivard. J— Hum. !— A 

sigh.— 
I'm answered, — 

Fitz-Ed. Did'st speak to me ? Pray pardon — but 
my thoughts 
Were wandering. C ^o Mortimer J — 'Tis thy pur- 
port then, my lord. 
To lead direct the gathered strength of Conway 
Against these wretched — ^^ 

Be La. Oh ! — I read thee now. — |!|, 

Wiiat — fearful lest the tiger spring of war 
Should crush thy wild wood flower?-— 

Fitz-Ed. Pshaw! trifler — peace! 

Orms. f smiling. J De Lacy, you speak idly. — 

Mo7't. At the least 



8 CASWALLON, [Walker. 

Obscurely. 

De La. What! thou hast not heard, and yet 
So near the scene of action ? Why, 'twas here 
He got his wound. — 

More. His wound ! 

Fitz-Ed, Nay — prithee peace ! 

De La. I "ay 'twas here the shaft transfixed him 
— shot 
Through loophole of a mountain-maiden's eye. 
A most incurable wound I — Why at this rate 
The King will soon be soldierless ! — Who now 
Would think that this same quintessence of sighs 
Was once a man ? — Aye and a brave one too — 
Whose mistress was the fiery-eyed 
Bellona — beauty of the embattled plain ! 
To see him now — like some sad stricken deer, 
Seeking out desert shades — the while to hear him. 
As with down-drooping head, and lifted arm 
He leans against some mossy old oak's stem. 
Sighing — *' Ah! hateful duty — direful day — 
That tore me from my tender love away ! " 
Oh ! fie on it! no words — reform — reform. 

Mort. Ha! Hal {smiling) Sir Hugh de Lacy still, 
I see ! 
A truce howe'er to jest — the banquet waits 
Within, and the red wine-cup chides our stay. 
Wil't please you enter ? — Nay for some short hours 
Our castle takes you captive;' — thence delivered, 
If ye will on with us tow'rd yonder hills. 
So — we shall hold us honour'd in your aid. 

Orms. Thanks, noble Baron — but it may not be — 
Ere the sun westers, I must hence. 

De La. And I — 

No — now I do bethink me — I'll remain — 
My spear-head's rough with rust, and my sword longs 
To fiash its brightness in the face of day. 
I'll e'en with thee — and tilt at these same rebels — 
Howe'er we'll taste thy cheer. 
Exeunt M0KT131ER and Ormsby — De Lacy lingers 



Act I.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 9 

De La. (to Fitz-Ed.) Sir Melancholy » 

When thou hast puffed thy latest sigh from thee, 
Thou'lt follow to the feast ? 

Fitz-Ed. De Lacev ! 

DcLa. ' Well! 

Fitz-Ed. This is unkind — I did not think to meet 
These scoffs from thee — from friendship — Shall I 

speak 
Dy meditations? 

Ee La. Prithee do— I'll listen, 

Though to the wofuUest love-tale that e'er dimm'd 
A young girl's eye, or set old age asleep. 

Fitz-Ed. Oh! tis not that — these wretched moun- 
taineers 
'Gainst whom thou goest to battle — 'tis of them 
That I would speak — these wretched and oppress- 
ed— 

De La Oppressed ! — the traitors ! 

Fitz-Ed. Nay— 

De La. The insolent— 

FitZ'Ed. Hold! 

They are my countrymen — reflect- 
ive La. 'Tis well 
Or rather — 'tis not well.— Now, on my life, 
I do believe thy heart's a secret rebel ! 

Fitz-Ed. You know it better — know there's none 
that beats 
In the wide realm more true, — yet, while I love 
(How could I not do so ?) the King, who trusts, 
Upholds, and honours me, 1 cannot see 
Unmoved his nobles' tyranny — nor shut 
My heart against the manifold injuries 
Of an oppress'd — because a conquer'd nation. 

De La. {affecting to weefi). Oh ! most sweet 
feelings! keen and just rebuke! — 
See if it hath not drawn to my sad eyes 
Th* unwonted water-drops. — Well ! well ! what 'tis 
To have a heart ! And think'st thou In this way 
To scribble o'er thy soul's true character, 



10 CASWALLON, [Walker. 

And that I cannot read it ? cannot see 
'Tis for thy bright-eyed maid alone thou fear«8t ? 
And in good truth thou hast some cause — your sol- 
diers 
Have piercing eyes — I warrant me, they'll beat 
Each bush and bramble, but they'll start the game. 
And if she cross me in my path — 

Fitz-Ed. Thou wilt 

Protect her — come, I've tried thee, and I'll trust thee 
This levity to those who know thy worth 
Is only as the river's sedgy top, 
Whose stream still glideth uncorrupt beneath. 

De La. Pshaw ! — I hate flattery worse than I do 
love : 
And so no more of either : fare thee well ! 
The wine-cup waits — did'st thou not hear ?— -and 

horn 
Of native hydromel; — Heaven help thy taste ! — ^ 
That dost prefer, after long travel too. 
To feed on air; — for me, who cannot boast 
That strange chameleon quality, I own 
A banquet has some certain charms; and so 
Not to neglect them, once again, farewell. 
r faith, I pity thee. — \exit, 

Fitz-Ed. He pities me ! 

Such pity might the untaught Indian feel 
For the rapt saint— he pities me ! — Oh Eva ! 
Had he beheld thee — prest thee to his bosom — 
Perceived, like me, thy sweet unclosing eyes 
As the glad consciousness of safety flashed 
From their full orbs, silently blessing him 
For deeds his arm had wrought in thy defence — 
But it escapes me — should their ruffian hands 
Again assail — and I not near to aid — 
I'll hence o' the instant : — seek yon hallowed spot 
Where yet thy footprints linger — where the air 
Yet breathes of thee, and every gentle gale, 
That stirs amid the waring forest, seems 
With whispering tongue to syllable thyname. 



Act 1.1 OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 11 

My wretched countrymen — they too must hear 
My warning voice : I'll pierce to their retreat, 
Appriae them of the storm that's gathering round. 
And snatch them, ye hard tyrants, from your hate. 

Scene II. — 4 romantic Glen, — On one side a rude 
Hut,fiartly concealed by overhanging ti ees. Moun- 
tains in the back ground. — Mador is discovered, 
having sus/iended his harp, upon the branches of 
a large oak. 

Mad. Thou ancient Oak— that with outstretched 
arms 
Did'st welcome to thy friendly shade, the spent 
And homeless spirit of freedom — lo ! I hang 
My latest treasure on thee! — there abide, 
My harp — alas ! — how vain the hope that e'er 
I may again burst the sad spell that binds thee, 
Or wake thy tranced strings to any theme 
That speaks not Cambria's ruin ! — 

Where are ye. 
Ye spirits of song — ye souls of my slain brethren ? 
Hover ye yet around the land that once 
Reechoed with your raptures? — Sainted friends — 
Yours was the death of fame !— 

Hark! — heard I not 
A footstep ? — it is he— mine honour'd lord. 

(Caswallon descends the rocks^ as pursued ; 
still looking towards the side on nvhich he has en- 
tered.') 
Mad. Caswallon ! — whence this haste — these ire- 
ful looks — 
This wild demeanour? 

Cas. They have missed my track. 

Hark to their halloo in the distant vales! — 
And have I foil'd ye, hell-hounds ! 

Mad. Holiest Saints f 

Hast been perceived ? 



12 CASWALLON, [Walker. 

Cas. Shame chokes my utterance — yes- 

Perceived, and forced to fly : — from crag to crag 
Chased like the mountain quarry. Yet thou know'st — 
But for the tie that binds me to existence — 
Oh, well thou know'st the shame of craven flight 
Had not been mine ; — that rather I had sprung 
Resistless, tiger like, upon their spears. 
And proudly died: — in death's last agony 
Grappling the foremost of my fierce assailants, 
And crushing the strong life from out his heart! 

Mad. TheHeav'nsforefend! — Ah! wherefore wil't 
thou thus 
Stray heedless o'er the mountains, even as though 
The merciless stranger sway'd not through the land. 
Nor set a price on thine attainted head! 

Cas. What should I do ? — Thou canst not estimate 
Th' impatient stir and throbbings of strong manhood, 
By the faint ebbs and flows in the heart.of age* 
Should I confine me from my native hills, 
Life were not life. I tell thee, dull old man- 
Pshaw ! — I am harsh — unthankful — petulant — 
I prate I know not what. — Forgive me, Mador — 
Oh ! *tis not thou hast anger'd me. — My country ? 
Mv wretched country ? — shall the violent stranger 
Lord it for ever o*er thy ravaged vales!— 
For ever fix upon thy mountain tops 
The watch towers of his strength and our despair! — • 
Is this Heaven's will!— What heard'st thou > 

Mad. Through the glen 

Advancing footsteps.— Fly — fly. — 

Cas. Again ! 

Mad. Delay, 

And art thou lost. 

Cas. Or, rather, I am found. — 

And be it so i—l stir not from this spot. 

Mad. Fatal resolve! — Yet think of her, my lord. 
If my tears fail to move thee—think of her, 
The tender flower that lives but in thy light. 
What were her fate, if 'reft of thee ! 



Act I.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 13 

Cas, Forbear — 

Press not that theme : — it tortures — it subdues me ! — 
Do with me as thou wilt. \_exit into the hut. 

Mad. rU wait without ; 

And haply they may pass, as deeming me 
The lone possessor of this forest cell. 

Enter Caradoc and Hoel. 

Cara. 'Tis this way, then, he must have pass'd; 

Hoel. And lo ! 

Where the broad arms of yon outspreading oak 
Embrace a secret dwelling. — We will enter. — 
'Tis haply here that — 

Mad. (advancing). Hold, rude man — nor tempt 
Mine order's curse. — What would'st thou ? 

Cara. Sire revered. 

We bend before thee. 

Mad. Wherefore have ye sought, 

From the far world, these desert shades ? — a spot 
Sacred to holiest solitude ; and e'en 
From the first birth of nature, unprofaned 
By sound of steel, or sight of armed men. 

Cara. Thy pardon, that we rudely dare to break 
Upon its privacy. — If known the cause, 
It surely might absolve us. 

Mad. Briefly tell it. 

Hoel, As briefly answer — Shrouds not yon lone 
hut 
The chief, Caswallon ? 

Mad. Whence hadst thou the thought 

To find him here ? 

Cara. He cross'd us even now. — > 

Nay, think not, holy Bard, we trace his steps 
With traitorous aim. — Too well we know the price 
That barbarous England sets on his brave head ; — 
And oh ! too well, what harlot charms hath gold, 
E'en in the eyes of our own countrymen. 
But with far other hopes v/e seek Caswallon. 
We follow him, to place within his grasp 
2 



14 CASWALLON, [Walker. 

The avenger's sword. — It now awaits his wielding. 
Let him but lead the way in freedom's path — 
And know, there are not wanting, through the land, 
Hearts prompt to dare, and hands to execute. 

(Caswallon here re-ajifiears at the door of the hut.) 

Mad. I hear thee, and am lost in strange amaze. — 
Mean'st thou, that Cambria, our poor bleeding coun- 
try. 
Hath dared again — ? 

Cara. To shake the tyrant's foot 

From her down trodden neck ! — I tell thee. Father, 
That did I blow but one blast of this bugle, 
The sound should summon forth from their retreat 
Two thousand armed Britons. — Hear'st thou that ? 
A band, that were Caswallon but to lead them, — 
Were he, who now is absent — 

Cas. {unable to restrain his emotion^ rushing for- 
ward.) No — he's here 
Here at thy side. — Thou heavenly messenger 
Of life and light, where all around was darkness! 
Oh, instant sound the trump — or take me hence 
To yon bright spot, irradiate with shine 
Of spirits like thee, and the last drop of blood 
In these full veins shall fall for them and freedom ! 

Hoel. Thou honour'd warrior, who for sixteen years 
Invisible to every eye hast been — 
Do we again behold thee ? 

Cas. And thou risest 

Beautiful in thy strength, my native country! 
And thou hast girded on thy sword of valour, 
And with the iron heel of indignation 
Hast spurned the spurner from thee ! — the loud sum- 
mons 
To liberty and vengeance has gone forth 
Amid thy mountains ! — Snowdon, the great king, 
Hath issued it — and Idris echoed back 
The inspiring sound 1— Aye, shout, ye hills !— high 
lift 



Act I.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 15 

Your everlasting heads, and shout for joy ! — 
Ye shall be free ! — Ye shall again be free! 

Cara. Oh, be thy words prophetic ! — But 'twere 
good 
We now return'd to our expectant friends. 
How will the sight of thee, their gladden'd hearts 
Fill with new life ! — of thee, their chief and king. — 
For on thy head hath Cambria fix'd to set 
The regal crown. 

Cas. On mine P'—Oh, never, friends, 

That circling glory shall descend on me. — 
Never upon Caswallon's brow shall sit 
Another's right. 

Cara, Another's ! — 

Cas. Doth it wake you ?— 

What if a branch of Cambria's royal tree 
Had still escaped the blighting tempest's spite? 
A scion of Lewellyn's lofty stem? — 
What an I pledged myself to place before ye. 
Flourishing now in full maturity. 
His lineal heir? 

Cara. It were a blessed chance. 

It were to set a standard on our hills 
Round which the realm should range itself in arms. 

Cas Enough— -here break we off — at Snowdon's 
foot 
Together summon your brave bands; and there 
I'll join them. — There shall they behold — but haste, 
Time presses. — Be it thine, my faithful Mador, 
To bear these chieftains company, and share 
The glorious tale among them. — Fare thee well. — 
Anon I'll follow thee. [Exeunt Mador and Chiefs, 

Oh happiness! — 
If hitherto thou hast but transiently 
Glanced on my soul, like the brief lightning's flash 
Fading av/ay, ere I have felt thy presence. 
Now — now I have thee ! — now my raptured soul 
Basks in the full shine ot thy favouring beams ! 
Hoa!— Eva— hoa! 



16 CASWALLON, [Walker. 

Enter Eva. 

Eva My father. — 'Twas his voice. — 

And thou'rt returned at last! — Fie on thee, loiterer! 
How long hast thou been absent.— But I'll punish 

thee. 
This truant disposition of to day 
Shall mulct thee of thy morrow's sport, mine hunts- 
man. 
Mark if it do not. 

Cas. Dearest child! 

E-va. If thus 

The chase should rob me of thy love — but ah I 
As now I gaze on thee, some strange emotion 
Seems to possess thy soul. — Thy changeful cheek 
Is flushed and pale by turns. — And yet a gladness 
Sits sparkling in thine eye. — If aught had happ'd 
It is of moment sure to move thee thus. 
My father, \vhat hath chanced > 

Cas. I cannot speak ! 

Our country — let that word declare it all.— 
And yet — ' 

Eva. Thou'rt pale, and shiverest : faint belike 
With thy long fasting — spent with exercise. 

Cas. Not that — it is not that. — Oh Eva hear me, 
I have a thing to say — a tale of wonder 
To pour into thy bosom — but I know 
Thy nature well— and thou wilt love me still. 
List to me Eva. — 

Eva. Love thee — love thee still! 

Thy words are wrapt in darkest mystery — 
But I do listen. — 

Cas, Now sustain me, Heaven! 

After that last great battle— that which fix'd 
The Saxon stranger in our groaning land. 
On Bualt's bloody plain I stood alone. 
The sole survivor of my slaughtered friends — 
Death had that day been busy with the best 
Of all our host — but still had fled from me ; 
And o'er the thick heaps of the trampled slain 



Act I. OR THE BRITON CHIEF, n 

I still was seeking him — when — horrible sight — 
The rich helm cleft upon his kingly brow, 
Before me, pale and bleeding, lay Lewellyn — ! 

J'^va. Our latest, noblest king! 

Cas. The great Lewellyn— 

Soul-struck I sank beside him — and his hand. 
As cold it lay upon the gory plain, 
Caught to my burning lips — the touch restored 
His fading senses — Oh ! and the wild joy 
That lightning like thrill'd through me, When I saw 
His eyes still shooting forth the fires of life. — 
I raised him in my arms — "And art though here? 
And hath heaven sent thee to my prayers?" he 

cried — 
Then pointing to his palace — " Haste and save " 
He added in a whisper, " ere the foe 
Has fired our dwellings — save my child " — 

Eva, * His child ! 

Said you his child ? — 

Cas. Upon the word, I sprang 

From earth — he smiling sank down at my feet, 
And — died! — I did not think to shed a tear 
At such an hour. 

■Ex'a. Oh pardon — but the child— 

The helpless infant — ? 

Cas. *Twas a night of terror — 

I well remember it — and the storm-fires flash'd — 
And the wild thunders roll'd our dead king's kneil ! 
Oh ! but I bless'd their deep and drowning voices ; ^/fk 
For, ever in the pauses of their wrath, ^^ 

The fiercer foe's exulting shouts uprose. — 
And I was struggling on, glen after glen, 
And now had gain'd that topmost mount, where 

stood 
Our monarch's palace: — for a time, the child 
Thro' its deserted halls I sought in vain. 
At length within the chapel's sacred pale, 
Peacefully at the altar's foot enshrin'd, 
As who should say—*' Here I'm insafety sure" 
2* 



18 CASWALLON, [Walker. 

I saw it — the sweet sleeping one.- — From fire. 
And sword, and insult, storm, and wreck, and ruin, 
I snatch'd it — saved it! — as you see, e'en now 
The joy o'erpowers me. — 

Eva. And 'tis living still ? — 

Cas. Aye, I thank Heaven i— 'Tis living — bloom- 
ing. — Eva, 
That child art thou !— 

JLva. I ! — I that child ? — my father — 

Thou art my father — art thou not ?~- and this 
That I have heard thee say was but to try 
The depth of my affections. — Thou distrustful! 
To think the false lure of a royal birth 
Should so ensnare me. — Oh ! thou might'st have 

known 
I would not forfeit that transcendant claim 
To thy paternal love for all the wealth, 
Heirdoms, and honours the wide world contain 

Cas. Ha! — I had not expected this. — Oh pardon 
That 1 have dared deceive thee — dared usurp 
Even from thine infant — 

JEva. Am I not thy child i 

Cas. Thou art a princess, and the rightful heir 
Of empire — by yon conscious Heaven if swearW; — 
That in its infinite mercy made Caswallon 
Its instrument to save thee. — By the life 
That I have cherished for thy sake, the joys. 
And griefs, and fears that 1 have felt throughout 
ijff'hy rising youth — and by this last great hope 
^^o see thee'stablished on thy father's throne. 
Thou art Lewellyn's heir ! — 

Jiva. And not thy child.— 

Oh ! fallen from happiness indeed ! — But thou, 
My father — for I still must call thee so, — 
Thou wilt have pity on me, and fast lock 
This hideous secret in thy silent heart. — 
Wilt thou not ?— Awful Heaven ! — he turns away. 
Then am I answer'd, and my fate is plain. — 
Most miserable outcast ! 



Act II.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 19 

Cas. Say not that. 

Thou shalt be great and happy an^ong princes, 
Cambria's acknowledged queen ! — but time is wast- 
ing. 
And I ibrgct—there are some certain chiefs 
That now at Snowddn's foot do stay for us. 
Small need of prep-i ration ; — we'll but take 
A hasty farewell of our forest home, 
And straight set on. 

Eva. A farewell of our home, 

Where we have lived thus long and happily — 
Ah ! — What thy purpose ? — spare me. 

Cas, Royal maid. 

It must not be. — Princess, a crown awaits — 
A kingdom cries to thee. — Nay, linger not. — 
My queen !— My child ! 

Erva. (throwing herself into his arms J — Aye, call 
me still thy child. 
And I will follow thee throughout the world ! 

lexeunt into the Hut, 

END OF ACT I. 



ACT II. 

OCENE I — ji rocky Vale^ivith Snowdon rising above. 
The Insurgents with Caradoc are discovered as 
waiting Caswallon's ajifiroach ; Mad or in the 
viidst. On either side are Bards, each standing 
with his harfi ufion a craggy eminence. 

Mad. Thus then ye men of Arvon, all is told.— . 
E'en now he comes, and with him that bright heir 
Of royalty, Lewellyn's living child. 
But first, as doth become this great occasion. 
Let us take up tlie strain of ancient days. 
Strike ye, my bardic brethren — ye that know 
To rouse the slumbering might of minstrelsy, 
iLtrike ! to Lewellyn's praise build the proud song. 



20 CAvSVVALLON, [Walker. 

AN ODE BY THE BARDS. 

Chonie. 

Hear Lewellyn— rwhlle to thee 
We swell the tide of minstrelsy! 

First Bard, 

Still o'er Arvon fast and far 
Rolled the cloud of Saxon war: 
Still athwart its darkness played 
The radiance of thy battle blade : 
There where raged the thickest fig'ht 
Shedding fierce its vengeful light! 

Second Bard. 

Hark! an arrow hurtling by! — 
Hark ! a nation's anguish'd cry ! 
Who shall now afford relief? 
Fall'n is Cambria's stately chief: 
Ne'er his hand on battle plain, 
Freedom's sword shall wield again. 

Third Bard, 

Hold ! their lives in glory sped, 
Peaceful sleep the princely dead. 
Why prolong the notes of wo? 
Bid the strain of rapture flow : 
Let it to all distant ears 
Tell the joy that now appears. 

Chorus. 

She comes ! — she comes ! — let harp and voice 
Up to high Snowdon's peak rejoice ! — 

Enter Caswallon, leading Eva, 
Cas, Enough, my friends — aniazenrient I perceive 
Hath filled yt)ur hearts, for that Caswallon stands, 



Act II.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 21 

After a separation of such years, 
Once more an armed warrior in your cause. 
Pass that — a higher, richer joy is here. 
(Leading Eva forward.) 
Chiefs, fellow-sufferers, friends and countrymen, 
I here present to ycu a princess, sprung 
From ancient Arthur's royal line, and heir 
Immediate of your dearly-loved Lewellyn — 
'Twere long to tell how 'mid those earthquake wars. 
Which swallow'd kings and kingdoms, I preserved 

her: 
How I have bred her as mine own, nor yet 
From )^ear to year and heart to disavow 
That dearest claim upon her filial love : 
How she has been to me a more than child — 
Sweet solace of my solitude thro' years 
Which else I had not lived. — Let it all pass. 
I here resign her to your common loves, 
Cambrians — Behold your Queen ! 

Behold ! and ye 
That do acknowledge her now kneel with me, 
Your voices join with mine aloud to cry 
All hail Lewellyn's heir! (kneels), 

Cara. Hail Princess! — 

Mad. iJfc. Princess hail ! (all knell,) 

Eva^ Alas, my — lord my loving friends — arise. 
How should I thank you ? My heart's gratitude. 
That fain would find a passage from my lips, 
Flows from my eyes instead, and leaves me speech- 
less. 

Cas. Blest tears! o'erfiowing from the fount of love; 
Be they received as is the rain from heaven 
Upon a thirsty land ; sweetly reviving 
The blossoms of a nation's blighted hopes. 

Enter Hoel. 
Cara. Hoel — what means this haste ?— 
HoeL Where is the Chief? 

We have secured a Saxon spy, and wait 

To take his orders; — 



22 CASWALLOI^, [Walker. 

Cas. Spies upon our councils ! 

Set him before us. — \_exit Hoel. 

( To Eva) It were best, my Queen, 
Thou should'st retire, — these tumults might distract 
Thy unaccustomed spirit. — 

Eva» I obey ; — 

But thou wilt follow shortly.? — 

Cas. With all haste. 

Cshe retires attended by Mad or, iS^c.) 
And now ye warriors, who with willing hearts 
Have destined me to lead this high emprize. 
Draw out your forces. — We must hold ourselves 
Expectant of a daily, hourly blow. — 
Brave Caradoc and captains to your charge. 

Exeunt Caradog, i3'c. Reenter Hoel. 

Hoel My lord, the prisoner. — 

Cas Let me look on him — 

His friendly visit shall have fitting welcome. 

(Fitz-Edward is brought in guarded.) 

Cas. Good sooth — a gallant presence! it should 
speak 
Th' ambassador methinks, and not the spy. 
Thou com'st with message from our mighty masters: 
Doubtless 'tis 30 f — in sending thee they deemed 
That lofty carriage could not but suffice 
At once to fright us into good behaviour. 
Fair youth — thy noble pleasure ? 

Fiiz-Ed. Scornful man — 

I reck not of thy taunts, — who merits not 
May well despise them ; — but before 1 tell 
The purport of my presence here, resolve me — 
Art thou the chief of this insurgent troop — 
Or whom do I address ? 

Cas. Ask of thy country : — 

Ask at whose uttered name in times of yore 
The stoutest of her warriors shook with dread ; 
Whom even yet perhaps she chiefly fears. 
Ask who it is that still hath stood erect 
E'en in the midst of kneeling Cambria : 



ActlLJ OR THE BRITON CHIEF 25 

Who still hath scorned her conqueror — disowned, — 
Despised, — spurned, — baffled hinn — and I am he ! — 

Fitz-Ed. Is't possible? — Caswallon! — 

Cas. Aye — Caswallon. 

What! doth it shake thee ? — is the gulf, that gapes 
Beneath thy tottering feet, at length revealed ? 
Thou art Caswallon's captive. — 

Fitz-Ed. Haughty lord !— 

Think not I stoop to deprecate your wrath. 
My life is in your hands : — I am unarm 'd. — 
Use your advantage as you may — I reck not — 
Yet — though the assertion now, I blush to think it, 
May somewhat shew like the device of fear — 
Yet truth demands my utterance to declare 
I did not seek your hills with hostile aim — 
I am not what you think me. — 

Cas. Ko ? and yet 

Thou art a Saxon ? — and thy coming hither — 
Doubtless i; was — 

Fetz-Ed. To serve ye — yes, to save. 

For think not that your rising is unknown : 
Or that the Argus hate of Mortimer 
Is slumbering 'mid your councils. — Wretched men ! 
'Twas pity for your past, your present woes 
That brought me hither. — Oh ! it is most true 
Ye have had wrongs — 

Cas. Indeed ! — 

Fitz-Ed. And heaven's my witness 

That I have felt them to mine inmost soul. 
That I have ne'er forgot the ties that bind me 
To my dear native land, nor yet — 

Cas. Thy land !— 

Thine ! — did I hear aright ? — and thou art then — ? 

FitZ'Ed. E'en like thyself, a Cambrian. — 

Cas. He avows it! — 

Hear him ! — he heralds forth his own deep shame ! 
Prank'd in the trappings of his guilt, he comes 
To beard us with the boast — the very boast 
Of his apostate baseness! — 



24 CASWALLON, [Walker. 

Fitz-Ed. Spare to chide 

Till thou hast heard my story. — I have fought 
Abroad beneath the banner, it is true, 
Of English Edward : — true, to him I owe 
My name — my knighthood — all that I possess. 
Since from my earliest years, while yet an infant 
Found after Deva's fight, I still have lived — 

Cas. That fight ! — oh name it not. (Covering his 
face, and then regarding Fitz-Edvmrd with softened 
looks.) Unhappy youth!— 

Art thou a sufferer too from that same fight .^ 
Yet do not tell me. — Oh, thou hast recalled 
Days of despair and images of horror ! — 
A murdered wife and son. — No more — no more — 
And thou wert ravish'd from thy parents, youth ^ 
So ran thy tale. — 

Fitz- Ed. 'Tis all I have to tell.— 

'Tis all I know, that in the sanctuary 
Of a deserted convent chance reveal'd me 
Beside a dying mother. 

Cas. Heavenly Powers ! 

But this is strange — and stranger thoughts pro- 
vokes. — 
A convent ! — 'Twas to such a place — The time too 
Exactly suiting. — A deserted convent ! — 
The name ; — the name ? — 

Fitz-Ed. What can this mean > — 

Cas. (nvith imfiatient eagerness.) The name ? 

FitZ'Ed. I have been told — 

Cas. Was it St. Cybi's ?— 

Fitz-Ed. Ha!— 

You then have heard — 

Cas. It was! and I am wild 

With hope new-risen as from the vanquished tomb \ 

Enter Mador. 
Mad. My Lord, the assembled bands — 
Cas. I know. — Come hither. 

Dost thou observe that youth!*— his shape— his 
mien — 



Act II.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 25 

Nay— look upon him : for by all nny hopes 
Here and hereafter, I do think that youth > 
To be the child of my Guideria, 
My long-lost, living son. 

MacL That Saxon knight 

Thy son ! — 
Fitz-Ed. (asidey) Amazement mocks my every 
sense ! — 
Why should he eye me with such altered looks ? — 
Haply he knew my parents. — Ha!— dread Chief — 
If aught, as thy demeanor doth denote, 
Aught of my birth thou know'st, I do beseech thee 
Declare it. — Have I — oh ! I fear to ask — 
Have I a father ? — thou art silent. — Speak. — 
Restore to me a father; — or if Fate 
Hath envious snatch'd him from these filial arms. 
Restore to me a name, and I will bless thee !— 
~ Cas. Yet — yet, my heart, thou art too small to hold 
A tide of bliss so copious! — One word more.— 
Thou namedst an expiring mother. — 

Fitz-Ed. Struck 

By a chance arrow, as I since have heard, 
While flying with myself, her infant charge. 
From the victorious foe— to earth she fell : 
And from her arms, that could no longer hold, 
Unwilling gave me up — gave me to him 
Who led that day the assailant host, and now 
With sorrowing heart stood o'er her as she died. 
Cas. Go on — she spoke to him. — 
Fitz-Ed. ' She fain had spoken, 

But could not— could not thank him for his oath 
That nought should harm me, but with trembling lips 
Just breathed the name of Armyn, and expired. 

Cas. The name of Armyn !— I can doubt no longer. 
Off !-'-let me hold him to my bursting heart : 
My own - my living son I— 

Fitz-Ed. Mysterious Heaven ! 

Art thou my father!— thou art— -thy looks— 
3 



26 CASWALLON, [Walker. 

These clasping hands — all — all proclaim the truth. 
Oh ! let me kneel — 

Cas. {preventing' him.') No - to my bosom' ever.— 
And am I still a father ?— Haste thee, Mador ; 
Spread wide my bliss— thou know'st to whom 

'twill be 
Most grateful.—- [exit Mador, 

My bold Armyn, dost thou weep > 

Fitz-Ed, A most degenerate softness that I 
blush at— 
But 'tis confessed— my heart is all too weak. 
Unmoved to stem this sudden surge of joy. 

Cas. Alas ! my son,— now, as I look upon thee, 
Past times live o'er again. The veiling mist 
That years have shed o'er my young manhood's 

morn 
Doth break away, and all its nopes and joys 
In shining prospect stand reveal'd before me. 
I see thee still an infant, as when last 
We parted ; when from off my brow I put 
Its dragon-crested terrors, and impress'd 
A father's hasty farewell or. thy cheek :— 
Oh ! then, amid her tears, thy mother smiled.™ 
Let from my thought what follow'd.— I have much, 
My son, to pour into thy listening ear, 
But moments now are precious. Go we hence. 
And on the way I will discourse with thee.-- 
Thy hand— Caswallon welcomes his brave son 
To the last sole retreat of Cambrian freedom. 

[exeunt. 



Scene II. — Interior of a Mountain Hut. 

Enter Eva and Mador. 

Eva. Yes, my good Mador, 'tis a tale indeed, 
That needs must turn the adoring heart to Heaven. 
Tliev come this way— the sire and son— ? 

Mad, I left them 



Act II.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 27 

In the full flow and interchange of transport; 
But do not doubt that hither in all haste— 
And see--they e'en anticipate my speech- 
See, royal Lady, where the proud chief leads 
His young and gallant son. 

Eva. Alas ! the change ! 

I tremble now to greet whom some hours since 
I should have met with all a sister's love. 

Alad. Nay— droop not, Princess,— they are here 
— awhile 
Let me retire. — \_exit. 

Enter Caswallon and Fitz-Edward. 
Cas. There.— In that young sweet maid, 

The majesty of this thy native land 
Breaks on thy sight. Approach and pay thy homage. 
Fitz-Ed. Illustrious Princess! — ( App-roaching^ 

they recognize each other.) Eva!— 

Cas. ( Survey iw^ both with sur/irise.J How is 
this ?•— 
Ye are no strangers, it should seem. 

Fitz-Ed. (confused.) My lord— 

The Princess will explain. I think that chance— 
A service rendered once— 

Cas. (as suddenly recollecting.) The time, thou 
mean'st, 
That swooping kites had seized my truant dove.— 
And was it thou ?-»- 

Eva. It was.— Let me make answer: 

It was that noble youth, whose sword preserved me ; 
The first-— last— only time we ever met. 

Ca@. It v/as a deed worthy Caswallon's son, 
And well became his arm, who now prepares 
To draw the sword in freedom's mightier cause ; 
Swearing it never shall know sheath again, 
Till he have throned his country's queen, and writ 
Her title to that glorious eminence 
In the best blood that warms the Usurper's heart. 
Such was Caswallon's solemn oath, and such, 
My Armyn, must be thine. 



28 CASWALLON, [Walker. 

FitZ'Ed. Alas ! my father — 

Thy words are wild. What would'st thou have me 
do? 

Cas. What would Ir*— Dash from its proud pe- 
destal 
The statue of thy country's shame ; avenge 
' Her grinding injuries— her insults— tears- 
Dark ages of deep sufTering and despair! 
'Tis this that I would have thee do. Uplift 
To its high ancient state and sovereignty 
The trampled standard of our fame ;— and, making 
Thy mother-land vaunt of thee for ever. 
From the mid-eyrie of her hundred hills. 
Shout loud defiance to her tyrant foes ! 
'Tis this that— ha ! my son— but thou art cold — 
Thine eyes are on the earth, when they should seek— 
A scope congenial with the task that claims thee— 
The glorious and illimitable heavens!— 
How P —Whence is this?— 

Fitz-Ed. What should I answer thee ? 

Thou dost forget, my father, that to him. 
Against whose sacred breast thou bidd'st me draw 
The sword of rude defiance, I am bound 
By ties of strongest gratitude and love. 

Cas. Ha! ties — to whom?~'Twas as an icfe-bolt 
shot 
Into my heart that thought I To whom art bound ? 

FitZ'Ed. Even to him thou hatest — English Ed- 
ward ! 

Can. To Edward — thou! — 

Eva. To Cambria's fellest foe ? 

Thou ! Thou ! 

I'itz Ed. To him -let me not blush to own it. 

To him, that much abused and injured prince. 
Nay, thou must hear — to him who first from earth 
Raised me a nameless outcast — on my head 
Thick showered his royal gifts— and sent me forth 
A titled honoured knight — that late had been 
The scorn of peasant grooms.— Aye, this did Ed- 
ward — 



Act II-] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 29 

. •• 
And could I e'er forget it — oh ! I were 
The foulest ingrate, that hath yet made sick 
This earth with his rank presence. — 

Eva, (regarding Casnualloiiy who afifiears lost in 
the contemplation of Fitz-Ednvard and his words. 
Saints defend us ! — 
Thou look'st wild, my father — oh this deep 
Dead stillness more affrights than doth the storm. 

Cas. Is this my son ? — my long deplored — long lost? 
And better lost forever, than found thus ! 
Oh ! thou degenerate and unnatural ! 
That turn'st the deaf ear to a mother's cries — 
Dost thou not shame to stand beneath the shade 
Of these thy native mountains -* — dost thou not 
In their up-blackening and cloud-swathed brows 
Read the dark glance of scorn, thy best reproach ?— 
Now, by our Snowdon's trij)le head I swear. 
There's not a wind that howls around his side 
A torrent stream that down his rugged steep 
In thunders roars — or rock it rushes over. 
But should speak to thee with a parent's curse ! 

Eva. Oh spare him — spare the undeserv'd re- 
proach. — 
Think of the ties — 

Cas. I do — that he has sunder'd — 

The ties that knit him to his native land. 

FitZ'Ed. And say'st thou they are sundered ? — no, 
my lord — 
No—I dare look to Heaven in conscious pride- 
But I am dumb.— 

Cas. Hear then my final words. — 

Thou art— oh ! would to Heaven that I could doubt 

it— ! 
Thou art my son : — yet think not I will stoop 
To share a heart whose undivided love 
is mine by Nature's charter — or should be. — 
No — by my fathers ' — either thou forswear'st 
All league, and faith, and fellowship, with Edward, 
Or, clinging still to him art lost to me. — 
3* 



30 » CASWALLON, [Walker. 

FitZ'Ed. Thou dost not mean — thou canst not 
hope it from me. 
Renounce my benefactor! — ray kind father. 
When 1 was fatherless— sole friend when friendless ! 
Like the false snake i' the fable, fix a sting 
Into the charitable breast that warmed me! — 
Thou surely canst not ask it — 

Cas. (to Eva J Dost thou weep, 

My tender child f* thine eyes are wet with tears — 
My heart is droppin,^ blood ! ( To Fitz-Echvard tviih 
emotion.) I'm answered then? — 

*Tis well. — Reject an outcast's broken fortunes, 
And follow a more proud and prosperous fate. — 
Hold on thy gay career: for courtly honours 
Renounce all natural ties of kin and country, 
Disclaim thy sire, and live an alien's slave ! 

Fitz-Ed. Inhuman !~but no — no — thou shalt not 
boast 
A triump.h o'er my better, nobler feelings. — 
The billov/s of thy wrath may beat upon me — 
They beat in vain! This heart may bendmay 

break — 
Beneath the o'erwhelming weight of thy unkind- 

ness — 
But to life's latest throb shall hold unshaken 
It's faith to Edward ! 

Cas. Then there rests but this — 

To cast away all clinging tenderness : — 
And thus — 

Eva. Thou shalt not speak it. — Oh I thy brow 
Hangs o'er him as the pregnant thunder- cloud : — 
Thine eye hath lingering in it ! Spare him — Spare 

him ! 
He is thy son! — 

Cas. Foe. — I disclaim, abjure him. — 

As an infected leper from my breast 
I shake him olt — 
I solemnly and utterly abjure him ! 



Act II.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 31 

Eva. Heaven in its mercy ! — is thy heart of stone } 
Abjure him ! 

Cas. Aye ! as he hath done his country! — 

Enter Caradoc. 
Cara. To arms, my noble chief! — From yonder hill 
We can discern the coming foe — nor doubt 
Their purpose to invade.— 
Eva. Protect us, Heaven ! 

Cas. Fear not. — Their number ^ 
Fltz-Ed. (hastily J The united strength 

Of Conway and Caernarvon! — Oh! 'twas this 
I would have warn'd you to avoid. — 

Cas. Avoid! 

Eitz-FA. 'Tis not too late.— Upon your lives I 
charge you 
Meet not this coming danger — yet secure 
Within you mountain holds and fastnesses 
Remain — 

Cas. Like a poor timid herd of deer, 
Rousing at every leaf that rustles o'er us ! — 
No — instant to the fight ! C drawing his sword). 
(To Caradoc) Are the troops marshali'd ? 

Cara. They are at thy command. — % 

Cas. 'Tis well— lead on— 

I'll follow.— fe^ri; Caradoc.)— My sweet Eva, our 

first care 
Must be thy safety.— Dearest ! do not droop. — 
I'll see thee in thy tent ere we depart.— 
For thee— (To Fitz- Edward') with thy tame counsel 

and cold heart. 
Hence, if it please thee, to the foe— thy friends— 
Thy Saxon — Norman friends. — From this hour forth 
Thou art no son of mine— thou art no Briton ! \^exit. 
Fitz-Ed. My prayers are vain ! — I've warn'd them 
and they scorn me ! 
As though my father from his banning lips 
Breathed a contagious spirit— all — all reject me- 
( Observing Eva.) Ah ! but thou still art here — An- 
gelic sweetness ! 



32 CASWALLON, [Walker. 

That dicFsl with tender and compassionate aim 
Lift up thy pleading voice:— yet, what avails it ; 
Thou art thy country's Princess— and even thou 
Must with the rest despise me. — 

Eva. Heaven forefend — 

Despise thee! — 

Fitz-Ed. And thou dost not ! — And at least— =- 

All blessings light upon thee ! — there is one 
Who doth not quite abhor me— who reveres 
The claims of gratitude, and owns their forcer- 
Heaven, for this sweetning in my cup of gall, 
J thank thee! — 

Eva, Hear me, thou exalted youth,— 

Ere yet we part never to meet again. 
Hear, while I speak one last and hurried word.-^ 
There was a time thy providential arm 
Wrought me a signal service. — Out upon 
A most unworthy girl, who scarcely since 
Jiath profFer'd thee the bare return of thanks.— 

Fitz-Ed. Unworthy I — Princess — 

Fva. Nay, reply not now.-^ 

The minutes speed, and we must haste our parting. — 
Take then the only recompense, save thanks, 
1§L grateful heart can make thee, this small chain ; 
And let it be to thee in after times. 
Mid happier scenes — a slight remembrancer 
Of one — who would not have thee — q uite forget her. ->• 

{throwing it over his neck. J 
Now — now — farewell — (turning aivay.) 

Fitz-Ed. Stay yet— thou heavenly maid? 

Trust me there needed not a link like this 
To bind thee to my bosom.— Since the day 
When, as some sweet presentment in a dream. 
Thy transient form first shot athwart my view. 
Here hath it lived— down — down tumultuous heart. — 
"What is it I have said? Forgive me, Princess — 
And yet, an hour ago — and I had deemed 
This might have been— 

Eva. I must not hear thee, — 



Act II.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 33 

FHz-Ed. No.— 

*Twere madness now to think it. — Then— oh ! then 
It was no sin— no wild extravagant hope- 
But I have held thee, Eva, to my bosom- 
Have feltthy throbbingheart to mine— have pressed. 
Forgive the free ^xov^^l—C taking her hand )-~0TiX.\iy 

lips 
Have pressed — 

Eva. Release me.-— At a time like this 

Such thoughts are sinful. 

Fitz-Ed. The rebuke is just.— 

Go.— Go.— But we may meet again.^But leave me 
That blessed hope. 
Eva. It must not be.— Nay, deem me not, I pray 
thee, 
Thankless, or cold, or cruel ; but the slave 
Of hard imperious duty .--We must part. — 
But oh ! think kindly of me :— do not hate 
My n;emory— mid the gay and glittering scenes 
That now demand thy presence, give at times 
A thought to the lone v/anderer of the hills; 
Who in her constant orisons to Heaven 
Will not forget Fitz-Edward.— Fare thee well- 
Would that I were not forced to add— for ever! Exi:, 
Fitz-Ed. She's gone:— and nov/ I may defy thee, 
Fate- 
The latest arrow of thy wrath is sped! 
Hark ! 'twas the tramp of martial men. — They haste 
Headlong, with outspread arms, to clasp perdition. 
My father I|is there not a voice will warn-— 
A hand will snatch thee from the perilous verge 
W' hereon thou stand'st ? And thou, oh Eva, thou— 
A tender maid, mid clashing hosts exposed — 
But no -all guardianless thou shalt not be. 
Still, though unseen, I'll hover near thee, still 
Be as a shield of fire— far— far to scare 
Each ravening hound of war that would molest thee ! 

Exit, 

aND OF ACT II. 



34 CASWALLON, [Walker. 

ACT III. 

Scene I. — J Valky interafiersed ivith Rocks, Eva 
and other iVoincni discovered variously disfiosed 
among them. Ctoervyl on an eminence looking 
out. 

Eva. No. — 'Tis in vain we listen. — Not a sound 
Save ever and anon the heron's scream, 
And murmur of the brook's perpetual flow. 

Goer. Hark!— Did mine ears deceive me? 

Kva. Heard'st thou aught? 

Goer. A shout uprising faint from yonder dell. — 
Didst thou not heed it, sister? (to a comfianion.J — 

Hark !— Again- 
Andlouder. 

jRva. They are met then ? 

Geor. Oh yes— yes. 

The conflict now is rife,— all signs evouch it. 
See from the hurtling fr«iy, where far aloft 
Flies the scared eagle.— 

IHva. Gorged e'en now perhaps 

With Cambrian blood!— Ah me!— Each thing I 

look on. 
Or sound I hear, strikes terror to my soul. 
There's not a rock-bird's shriek but mocks the cry 
Of human agony — there's not a wind 
That moans around the mountain but doth seem 
The last sad sigh of an expiring friend. 

Geor. Some one approaches.— By his azure robe 
One of our minstrel friends. 

Mad. (from without) Where is the Princess? 

Eva. 'Tis Mador's voice! —Here Mador— minstrel, 
here. 

Enter Mador. 

Mad. Oh !— My dear Lady— 
Eva. Do not pause— say on. 

How fares it with our friends?— Is all^^all lost? 



Act III.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 35 

Mad. Question me not, but fly— this instant fly— 
The forest-depths of Snowdon shall alone 
Protect thee now— there is no tarrying here— 
This instant— 

JLva. Mador— does my father live ?— 

Mad. Ilefthim living-— hosts environ him— 
Spears bristle and swords flash around him— bat 
I left him livirtg. 

Eva. {resolvedly) Here I wait him then.— 
He did commend me to this spot when parting 
Mador !— I quit it not till he return. — 

Mad. Till he return >— 

Eva. If that must never be. — 

'Tis terrible— but stirs not my resolve.— 
I can die here. 

Mad. Ah ! Princess— 

Eva, But my friends— 

My poor associates— 

Geor. Take no heed of us.-— 

Whate*er the issue of this fatal day, 
With thee we will abide it. 

Eva. Dearest! No— 

It were unsafe.— Our numbers may attract: 
Myself shall 'scape unnoticed. 

Geor. Do not think it ; 

Should v/e desert you —could we— ^? 

Eva. * Call it not 

Desertion — save yourselves, and you save me. 
Fly— fly— another instant— and it may be 
We are perceived— are in the foeman's grasp- 
Farewell— farewell ! \_exeunt Women 
(Shouts heard from without. ) 

Mad. Hal the war rolls this way; 

And with loud-summoning roar rebukes my absence. 
Oh ! I dare stay Tio\ox\gcv.— ( going ) 

Eva. (Catching him by the robe )—Ki\z\tT\\.vci\ 
And helpless! Wliither would'st thou? 

Mad. To yon height 

There, wheer my choral brethren are as6'embled ; 



36 CASWALLON, [Walker. 

With all the fiercest force of minstrelsy 
Flinging their ireful curses on the foe. 
Oh ! I did cast my harp upon the earth. 
When, as I saw our reeling host give way, 
The thought of thy exposed helplessness 
Burst on my brain. Oh! then I tied to warn,— 
Winged were my aged feet by fear and duty : — 
That duty now is done— and I must haste— 

Eva» It shall not be — thou hastenest to thy death. 
Mad. Alas! Sweet Maid— 'tis nothing hard for 
hairs 
As white as these to strew the dust in death : 
When youth is trailing his dark glossy locks 
In war's red paths beside them.— On this head 
The snows of sixty winters had been pour'd, 
'Ere thy young sportive fingers yet had learnt 
To twine them with its tresses,— I am old, 
And ask no better fate than this- to die 
In the dear cause of freedom ?— fare thee well. 
One last adieu, and— (^oin^ to kneel^ she prevents 
him) 
Eva. Oh ! Thou must not kneel — 

Dear good old man !— 'Tis I should bend to thee. 

Mad. Thy pardon if I dare to disobey thee— 
It is my first transgression, and the last. — {kneeling 

and kissing her hand) — 
Farewell, dear Princess! Cease to weep for one 
Whose earthly sufferings are so near a goal: 
Breathe thou a prayer for mine immortal weal, 
'Twill surely find acceptance from thy lips. 
And be my passport to abetter world. — 
Now— now ye spirits of my slaughter'd friends, 
I hasten to rejoin you ! — Now, my harp. 
One strain of triumph more in freedom's cause. 
Then sleep thy strings forever. lexiU 

Eva. Noble heart ! 

If prayer of mine may aught prevail on high. 
Thou surely shaltbe blest!— All's hushed again.— 
It is that terrible quiet that precedes 



Act III.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. iY 

The burstings of the thunder-storm ! — Anon, 
Another and a louder crash will follow. — 
Oh ! if the bolt fell on no brain but mine. 
Here with unblenching — ( Shouts from ivithout) 
Ha! it breaks! it bursts! 
And I stand here — alone — exposed — defenceless ! 
Where are my maiden friends! Oh now — oh now 
I do repent me that I sent them hence — 
I do repent me that I went not with them, — 
But they are safe, thou selfish heart? 

( Shouts and noise very near J — Again! 
It comes upon me, and I cannot fly — 
ft will o'erwhelm me I {rushing to the farther side of 
the stage and calling violently) Help! My 
father! Mador! 
Help! help? 

Cas. (from without ) My child ! (^//e rushes in, 
Eva, ivith a shriek, running to him, throws 
herself on her knees and clas/is his rode,) 
Eva. Ah! Heaven! It- is himself. 

Cas. In vain we combat — glen by glen, and rock 
By rock I have disputed it, and still 
They rush upon us! Aye — Swell on ! Swell on! 
Thou tossing and tumultuous sea of slaughter ! 
Here I'll await thee! — Threat with all thy waves. 
They shall not wash me hence! 

Eva. (rising) And thou wilt stay 

To spend thy heart*s blood at my very feet! 
Is that thy horrid purpose? Oh away. 
While yet thou livest — linger not. — 

Cas. (Gazing on the side from ivhich he entered) 

Distraction ! 
See there ! — the wretched remnant of our friends 
Cut down and trampled by the spurning foot 
O' th' insolent conqueror ! — Off. — Let me haste 
To save — avenge — 
Eva. Thou but wilt lose thyself. 

Cas. Is not all lost ? 

4 



38 CASWALLON, [VValke.-. 

Eva. No — for thou still art living. 

Delay not — let us hence. 

Cas. (fiointing ojff^ ) Look there ! 

Eva. C turning aivay J I dare not. 

Away — away. 

Cas. Oh, Heaven ! my wretched country ! 

(She draws him off ; his eyes still Jixed on the scene 
without.) 



Scene II. — 4 rocky Landscape, 

Drums from without. — Enter Mortimer, De Lacy, 
and Soldiers, asfrcv? the battle. 

Mart. Pitch we our pennc i here. — Yet not the 
less 
Upon them, and pursue, Their leader lives. 
Till he be slain or taken, nought is won. 
{To De Lact.) Sir Knight, how fares it with thee? 

De La. Well, my lord. 

Though I'll not boast, — my helmet went to shivers 
In the very first onset : though of temper'd steel, 
It did not care to 'bide the shattering mace 
Of that same sturdy Welshman — my head sung, 
Like the jarr'd strings of some crack'd instrument, 
Beneath its numbing force. 

Mort. 'Twas a hard day. 

De La. I know not of the day — but for this head- 
Well— we'll not speak of that. — Did any see 
Fitz-Edward in the conflict ? 

Mort. I did mark him. 

When first the baltle join'd ;— he stood aloof 
On a hill's side — nor through the whole encounter. 
As I believe, vouchsafed his knightly aid.— 

Enter Audley. 
Now, Audley, is he taken ? — is he slain — 
The master mover of this mad revolt — .> 



Act III.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 39 

Aud. Neither, my lord Though hard we press'd 
upon him. 
His knowledge of the mountain mazes foil'd 
Our nimblest footsteps: — like a roebuck fleet 
He ran — he flew along the mountain's edge, 
Though in his arms supporting, as it seem'd, 
A drooping female. 

De La. Aye — their Queen, belike, 

Of whom that grey-hair'd man, the minstrel, spake, 
As, at our feet expiring, he pray'd Heaven 
To speed and save her, 

Mort. And has she escaped? — 

Perdition to the feet that vainly follow'd ! — 
Where did ye lose the quarry's track ? 

Jud. Amid 

The intricate windings of a woodland glen, 
Into whose dusky bosom — 

Mort. Instantly 

Beset each pass — plant troops at every turn. — 
E'en yet they may be ours. — 

(AuDLEY g'ives directions to an Officer, who goes 
out.) 

Mort. Audley, do thou 

Lead to the eastern hills some twenty swords. 
Myself will guard the passes south of Conway. 
Come, let us on. — Till this wild quarry's ours, 
Ne'er may I justly say that we have conquer'd. 
(Drums beat.) Exit Audley on or^e si«^e, Morti- 
mer and Dk Lacy on the other. 

Scene III. — 4 nvild and mountainous Pass ; in the 
back ground a Caver7i. Shelving Hocks on to the 
Stage. 

Caswallon descends, leading Eva. 

Cas. So-— cheerly my, sweet Eva! — we have 
'scaped 
'he hunter's toils -and here at least are safe 



40 CASWALLON, [Walker. 

From present peril. Rest thou on this bank, 

And giveth)' breath free vent. The way was rough 

And toilsome for thy hurrying feet to tread. 

Eva. Nay, let us hence — 

Cas. Anon we will — but wherefore 

Wanders that backward and enquiring eye^ 

Eva. It might be fancy— but methought a step 
As of one following, fell upon mine ear. — 
Nay, more than once, as hurriedly we cross'd 
That dusky glen — I scarce could be deceived — 
A warrior figure caught my glance, as though 
Tracking our course. I saw his armour gleam 
A moving light along the mountain's side, 

Cas. Trust me — the phantom of distempering 
fear. 
No more. 

Eva. Return we, father, to our home— 

Our dear, deserted home amid the hills i* — 
Or whither go we now? 

Cas. To seek again 

Concealment in those fastnesses were vain. 
Far, far from hence must be our course. 

Eva, Alas ! 

And whither } 

Cas, To yon island of the Dane : — ^Tsle of 

Man.'] 
The only refuge left to us. — Ere while 
Its sovereign was thy father's firmest friend — 
And will not now refuse, in this dark hour, 
A shelter to the child of him he loved. — 
Fear not. — I know each cleft and ocean cave 
Shall shroud us in the day time, and at night 
The moon shall light us on our lonely way. — 
When once at Douglas — ah ! thou'rt very pale — 
These tumults have o'ercome thee. 

Eva. (faintly) No. — I can— 

I think I can proceed, {^growing weaker.) 

Cas. It must not be. — 

There's day-light yet contests it with the moon. — 



Act III.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 41 

It were unsafe to trust the Menai's shore 
At this so early hour. — Lo ! here — a cave, 
Where we may rest us, till the stars are up. 
Come, let us enter — a short hour of rest 
Will repossess thee of thy strength and spirit. 
There — cheerly — lean on me. {leading- i.er in^ 

Enter Fitz-Edward, having observed them. 

Fitz-Ed. I've traced them. — Ah ! — 

And is it there, ye desolate wanderers — there. — 
Within a damp and loathsome mouniaiii den, 
That ye are fain to shroud your houseless heads? — 
Quick let me snatch ye from the wo- \''t, how 
To front a father who rejects— denies me! — 
Submission ! — Well I know his haugluy h.oal 
Will ever scorn it. — Still I'll speak wich him — 
Essay the gentle eloquence of prayer. — 
If he do cast me off -but I'll not tnink it. — 
All*s hushed within — 
{He is entering the cave, when Caswallon a/i/ieart 

at the mouthy with his a/iear op/iosed to prevent 

Mm.) 

Cas. Who seeks to enter, dies! — 

^fF.— I have strength in this unwearied arm — 

(j ecognizing his soUy and coldly turning away^ 

HaJ is it thou.f* 

Fitz-Ed. Turn not away .—One word.— 

Upon my knees I beg it. ^ 

Cas. Let it be 

A brief one, then.— What would'st thou? 

Fitz-Ed. Oh, my Father! — 

The tempest that my slighted speech foretold, 
Hath it not burst upon thee I — 

Cas. And 'tis this— 

To tell me this, that thou art here— to vaunt 
Thy skill in divination?— 

Fitz-Ed. No. — I come 

To break thy commerce with ths niidnight wolf— 

4* 



42 CASWALLON, [Walker. 

To pluck thee from the lair where foxes litter : — 
Restoring thee to all those social joys 
That flow from man's communion with his kind; — 
To place thee once again — 

Cas. Beware — beware. — 

If I thought that— ih-ow know'st my temper— hence, 
Nor urge it farther. 

Fitz-Ed. Oh, I must, and thou 

Must hear me, too.— Enough of constancy — 
Enough of valor hath thy heart display'd. — 
We are a fallen people. — To contend 
With fortune now, were desperate vanity. 
The sceptre hath departed trom our land : — 
The kingly sway — 

Cas. Patience — oh, patience, heart! — 

Fitz-Ed. Nay, hear me on. — Is not all lost? — and 
thou— 
Dost thou still singly labour to oppose 
The common doom ? — Oh, idle all.— There now 
Is left thee but one way to save thyself: — 
But one — and I must speak it, howsoe'er 
It grates against thine ear — it jars within 
Thy bosom — I must speak it — 'tis submission. 

Cas. Heav'n ! — are thy thunders idle .'' — and thou, 
Earth, 
That yet endur'st his tread ! — thou wilt not part 
Beneath him, and deep hide his infamy! — 
No — thou disdain'st that such a rank pollution 
Should rest within thy bosom .'—This to me! — 
Submission! -Breathes the recreant to confront 
Caswallon with such counsel .'* — Yes — behold him! — 
There— with the utter'd wish—the hateful hope 
Fresh reeking from his lips, he stands before me — 
Endless disgrace ! — a Cambrian, and — my son ! 

Fitz-Ed. Yet — yet I will be patient. 

Cas. No — thou blot 

On the pure 'scutcheon of thy noble fathers — 
Thou shalt not plume thee in my fall, nor shew me 
A humbled spectacle to swell thy pride 



Act III] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 43 

With — *• Lo ! my work, and there the untameable! '* — 
I read thy heart's deep purpose. 

Fitz-Ed. Dreadful thought ! — 

'Tis not within thy hate's extremest bound 
To think me so immeasurably base, — 
—^h, these hot stinging tears ! — I am a fool 
To let it move me so — Away, weak heart !— 
In upright conscious honesty, I stand — 
And shake thy loose aspersions from my soul, 
As lightly as the falcon from her wing 
The dews of evening.— Yet one effort more, — 
Yet think, however reckless of thyself. 
On her, the tender partner of thy toils. — 
Befits it thus a delicate maid to roam 
With the wild wolf — to chamber with the bat — 
To struggle with — ? 

Cas. I will not hear thee — Hence. 

Fitz Ed. Obdurate man, bow thy proud spirit 
down. 
If ta'en, thou diest.- Submit, and thou shalt live : — 
Thou and that sweet young maid. — 
( Imfilnringly ufion his knees J Beloved father ! 
By Heaven's whole host, I will not see thee lost ! — 
(starting ufi resolvedly.) 
No- if thou scorn to yield, I '11 instant hence, 
And to the troops that now beset thee round, 
Reveal the secret of thy lurking place. 

Cas. Reveal ! — betray me to— .^ 

But no — thou art 
' Caswallon's son, and thus far he will trust thee. 

Fitz-Ed Oh, agony of heart! 

Cas. (going.) Nay, follow not. 

Attempt to stay me, and a father's curse 
Cling to thy soul, and hold thee lost for ever ! [Ejcit. 

Fitz-Ed. Hark! — are there thunders crashing in 
the air? 
Or what is 't stirs my brain ?— a father's curse ' — - 
It fell not — 'tis not i/iat that rages here. 
That misery still is spared me. He is gone: 



44 CASWALLON, [Walker. 

And now there's no alternative — *t were vain 

To think on't now, — There's ytt a way to save hinfi. 

Edward will grant my suit — will surely grant 

To a son's tears — I dare not doubt ; 'tis Heaven 

Inspires the thought, and Heaven will prosper it. 

JRe-enter CASWALLOi:i with YaV A. 

Cas. You had been dreaming, then when that 
wild shriek 
Smote on mine ear? 

Eva. A hideous dresm : and yet 

' Tjrelude was so sweet — it seem'd, my Father, 
7 I.. it we were wandering at iltf dead of night 
Amid our native mountains. Even as now, 
The soft moon shed her sober i^eams upon thera — 
They never look'd more lovely : at our feet 
The.e rippled on a gentle stream, that made ' 
Harmonious answer to my wakeful lute: 
For I was playing, as it appear d, the air 
That thou didst ever love. 

Cas. {s?nilin^ afft'ctionatehj) Even in thy dreams 
Studious to please me. 

Eva. Oh, out hear. — Anon 

A change o'erspread my vision : all things strange 
Were round us, Pud we stood i knew not where. 
Aye, and about us i lien were flashing swords. 
And furious faces, and grim armed men. 
And yet amid these evil forms, methought 
There shone a spirit of such radiant aspect, 
That I was taking comfort at his presence. 
But thou, my Father, though 1 knew not why. 
Didst lower upon him with an eye so stern, 
Hope sank beneath it — Oh ! and then there rose 
Such clamours! — I look'd up, and lo! an axe 
Shimmering above me — and 1 could not move.— 
And now 't was raised on^high; — and now — I 'waken*d, 
Even as the stroke descended. — 'Twas so sweet 
To find myself in safety ! 



Act III.] OR THE BRITON pHIEF. 45 

Cas. A mere dream : 

Dismis it from thy thought, and there it ends. 
Come, let us on. — ()*er every mountain path 
Hath night extended now its silent shade ; 
Obscuring, yet not veiling quite; for see 
Where Heaven, as though designedly to guide us, 
Is hanging out its store of golden lamps. 
The Menai may be gain'd within an hour. 
And then — 

^ud. {without) On, soldiers, on, — 

Eva. The foe ! — 

Cas, No matter. 

Quit not thy hold on me. — I will protect thee 
To the last gasp of life ! 

Enter Audley tuith soldiers. 
Aud. Lo ! where he stands. — 

Yield, rebel. 

Cas, Aye, my life perchance I may. 

When ye have wrenched this good sword from my 

grasp: 
But not till then, be sure on 't. Let me pass; 
Or with this precious burthen in mine arms, 
I'll hew me out a passage o'er the necks 
Of your strewn numbers. Back I say. 

Aud, Beware. 

It is thy capture, not thy death, we want. 
Nay, an he seek to pass — Soldiers, strike on. 

{They are advancing, ivhen Fitz-Edward rushes 
forward, wrests the sword from Audley, who 
is foremost, and places himself so as to protect 
Caswallon) 
Fit z Ed h must be through my heart then I 
Dastard hinds! 
Did ye not heed the charge I gave? — Retire, 
And wait my further word. 

Cas. {who at the appearance of Fitz-Edward 
has staggered back.) Thou ! — thou!— in mer- 
cy swear it was not thou 



45 CASWALLON, [Walker- 

Who leddest hither — oh impossible ! 
I will not think it. 

Fitz-Ed. Think the worst: I am 

Most guilty — if to have preserved thy life 
Be guilt. — The service I have done the state 
In making thee its captive, shall at least — 

Cas. The deed was thine, then? Now may every 

curse — 
Fitz Ed. {throwing himself upon his knees) Oh 
strike me with thy sword, not with thy breath. 
Behold — I bare my bosom to the blow ! 
Strike — stab — but curse not. — 

Cas. Strike? and I would do it, 

Did not a nobler office claim my sword. — 
Take thyself hence. — 

Fitz Ed. No. — Here immoveably 

Plant I my foot to bar thy further progress — 
Thy rushing on destruction ! — if thou still 
Art bent to pass, it must be o'er my corse! 
Cas. Ha ! — tempt me not. — I'm desperate. 
F'itz-Ed. So am L 

Strike! — strike! — thou shalt not pass. — 

Cas. I've warned thee. 

Ficz Ed. Strike!— 

Cas. Nay, thus then — {he is raising his sword^ 

when Eva's voice arrests him.) 
Eva. Hold ! — upon my knees I fall. 
Hear me, if not thy son. — That lifted sword, 
Think on whose head it is about to fall I 
Thine Armyn's. — Spare him, save him, and submit? 
Heap net more woes upon me — As thy child. 
Whom may's thou live to cherish, I invoke thee — 
I charge, conjure thee {seeing him still inexorable^ 
and determined to rush on, she rises from the 
ground, and ivith an air of majesty) Nay then, 
as thy Queen 
I do command thee ! — Mercy ! — mercy ! mercy ! 
{He drofis his sword. — She throws herself on his 
bosom; while Dudley signs to the soldiers to 
secure the?n.) 



Act IV.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 47 

ACT IV.— Scene l.—J Court in Conivay Castle, 

Enter Mortimer, De Lacy, and Audley. 

De La. Faith, 'tis a valiant heart! A nobler one 
Ne'er beat within the breast of man. Didst mark. 
As silently he strode along, the scorn 
That sat 'twixt smile and frown upon his visage ? 
And then his eye — how lit with indignation — 
Till upon thee it rested, and its fires 
Had waned into contempt. 

Mor. I did not heed it. 

De La. Oh no, my Lord; I had forgot, your eyes 
Were on the maiden fixed: — your every sense. 
Your soul seemed lost in her approach. I mark'd 
The awe, the rapture — ah ! bevvare, my Lord, 
How you become your captive's prisoner. 
You have your duties — 

Mor. Sir, I shall perform them. 

De La. I' faith I doubt thee; but farewell, fare- 
v^ell. 
I must to horse o' the instant. Thy prompt zeal 
In quelling this wild effort of rebellion 
Shall not be lost upon the King at Chester. 

Mor. I shall feel honour'd in your fair report. 
A prosperous stirrup to thee. Exit De Lacy. 

Audley, no — 
Thou wilt not wonder that my soul was stirr'd, 
When in our blooming prisoner I beheld 
The very form that struck me 'iiiid the wilds 
Of Arvon. 

j^ud Her thou mean'K whom young Fitz- 
Edwaicl 
Wrench'd from thy followers' 'V-''isp. Is it not said 
She is of royal birth ? 

Mor. And truly said : 

Let us not doubt it; 'tis a chance may much 
Assist our projects. She is young and fair; 
That *s nothing : the gilt toy — the bauble beauty 
Belike might tempt not ; but the high-derived. 



48 CASWALLON. [Walker. 

The royal, maiden, Audley, must be mine. 

^ud. Thy wife, my lord? 

Mor. I love, but I would wed her 

In furtherance chiefly of my golden views: 
Would wed her as the aspiring ivy mates 
With the tall column, for support in climbing. 
My fortunes married to the heir of Wales, 
What fate too lofty for my thoughts to challenge? 
Aud. I guess thine aim, and 'twere a master- 
piece 
Of politic craft, couldst thou indeed achieve it. 

Mor. What should prevent ? 

Aud. Her guardian : while he lives, 

It were in vain to hope it. 

Mor. While he lives ! 

As if old Conway's walls were not his dungeon, 
Nor Mortimer his keeper. 

Aud. Wilt thou dare 

To take his life ?— To strike at him, the father 
Of young Fiiz-Edward ? Think'st thou that the King, 
The youth thus dtar to him, will e'er assent? 

Mor. I know not, and I reck not ; this I know. 
That if mine interest claim it, he shall die. 
Hast thou commanJed that the captives hither 
Be led before us? 

Aud. Aye, my Lord; and list, 

They come. — 

Mort. That haughty look — hark you a while; 

Enter Caswallon in chains^ ivith Eva guarded. 

Cas Fear not, dear child; — they shall not harm 
thee, maid: 
They dare not. — 

Eva. 'Tis for thee alone I tremble. 

Thou wilt exasperate with thy lofty speech. 
Be patient, I entreat thee. — 

Cas\ I will be 

Most abject, do not fear it ; thou shalt stand 
Abash'd at the tame patience I display. 



Act IV.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 49 

Mor. (advancing and regarding Casivallon.J 
Aye — this is well; a sight that Conway's towers 
Have long desired. — And thou art he of whom 
I erst have heard my father speak, the foe 
Who wont to light hini through our wasted lands, 
By the broad blaze of burning towns and forests. • 
The untameable ! — untraceable ! — at length 
A wretched captive. 

Cas, Chain'd and weaponless. — 

Lord Mortimer is right sure of that, and therefore 
He fears not to approach him. 

Mor. Insolent! 

Whom yet no stretch of clemency could move. 
Ere we proceed to judgment, is there aught 
In mitigation of your crimes' award 
You would advance ? 

Cas. I've first to learn my crime: 

Next to demand be what presuinpt-ious right 
Ye dare to lead in captive train, this last 
Sole scion of a thousand sceptred kings! 

J\Ior. The question fully manifests the traitor. — 
Thou still art madly bent to disallow 
The paramount rights of high Plantagenet, 
Nor in Csernarvon's Edward own'st thy King. 

Cas. King! — King! — Caswallon own in England's 
Edward 
His King! in him, the juggling Longshanks' son! 
Now may Heaven's lightnings wither — 
{Eva regarding him with a su/i/i Heating look) 

Well— I'm calm. 

Mor. (aside) This is beyond my hopes ; he sounds 
the knell 
Shall knoll him to his death ! Again to touch 
The string of discord. Thcu hast spoken then ? 
Attest his words, ye that are present, note. 
He doth admit his treason: doth exult 
In the abnegation of his fealiy — 

Cas, Fealty! 



50 CASWALLON, [Walker. 

Thou fool ! to whom didst think — > 

{To Eva) Child, I must speak — 
My fame, name, honour, my life's life demands it. 
Fealty to him — the Saxon! — ha! am I 
An Anglian ? or a Dane ? 
Diu I t'ci- kneel to him ? or swear to him ? 
Surfeit his pride b}' oath or homage? Yea 
Attest my words, ye that are present: — note. 
That as I ever scorn'd him, so I now 
In upright and unblenching strength of spirit 
Defy, deny, spurn back*, and laugh at him! 

Mort. Oh, this obdurate disposition bars 
Each avenue to mercy. Guards, attend 
The traitor to his dungeon. I dare hear 
No n)ore. 

Cas. Aye — shew us to our prison-house ; 
So as it shuts out thee, its gloom is welcome. 

( Taking JSva's hand.) 

Mort. Nay, quit thy hold; the maiden goes not 
with thee; 
From this hour, ye are parted. 

Cas. Parted ! 

Eva {with extreme terror y and clinging to Caa- 
ivallon) Parted! 

Cas. No — no. — 

Mort. Away with them to separate cells. 

{Guards approach.) 

Cas. Back, ruffians. Mortimer this must not be ; 
Behold hei- — look upon her agonies — 
A fiend would pity her;— a savage could not 
Tear off these twining arms. — We must not part. 

E.va. Oh! is his heart relenting? Does he yield? 
I dare not look upon his eye, lest hope 
Should wither in his stern, destroying gaze. 
Yet will I kneel — 

{Afifiroaching Mortimer ^ Casivallon stofis her.) 



'1 <lo defy — deny — spurn back, aiul scorn ye." 

Btron's Manfred. 



Ac t IV.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 51 

Cas. No. — Heaven forefend it ! — kneel ! 

A Princess — and the daughter of Lewellyn ! — 
No. — If there must be suppliant joints — behold — 
Look, lord — how I '11 make proud thy Saxon soul. 

{^Drojijiing on his knees.') 
We must not part. 

Mort. I've spoken; and the word 

Is past recall. 

Cas. Oh ! any thing but this. 

Put me to any suffering — any shame — 
But this. See — see, I 'm writhing at thy feet. 
Tread on me, — I will bear it; — bear to feel 
Thy trampling scorn upon my subject breast: 
But part us not. Upon my knees — {Looking ufi^ 
and observing Mortimer still inexorable^ he 
starts indignantly from the ground) 

Curst slave! 
I 'm shackled: — Ye have ta'en away my sword. 
Or else — I swear it — else — amid thy guards — 

(^Speaking with difficulty : then^ as he surveys his 
chains,) 
Oh, hopeles — lost for ever ! — 

Mort. Lead her hence. 

Cas, One moment. — {Hastening toxvards her.) 

But to say a short farewell — 
If it must be. We never yet have known 
A parting. 

JEva. Heaven ! — and must we know it now! 

Cas. My child, there is no help. 
Eva, But we shall meet, 

Shall we not, father, on this earth again } — 
They surely do not mean to murder thee! — 
Thy son, the noble Armyn— 

Cas. Name him not. 

Dearest! — it matters little what the doom 
They mean for me. — I have Ltved long — have seen. 
Ere the dark tempest gather'd o'er our land, 
Some early days of sunshine.-— But for thee. 
The young, the queenly, and the beautiful — 



52 CASWALLON, [Walker. 

Oh ! there 's a thought that runs like molten lead 

Through my scorchM brain! — 

E-va. Let me partake it with thee. 

Is 't death that thou would'st warn me I must meet? 
The daughter of Lewellyn should not bring 
Shame on her fathers in that final hour. 

Cas. Unearthly excellence ! — yet 'tis not that 
That tortures. — 'Tis — oh ! my young innocent child — 
Thy inexperienced heart cannot conceive 
The furious passi ) sand wild wants, that drug 
This compound of all sinfulness — the world. 
'Tis the dread thought of after-ills I — of what 
These hateful savages may seek to do,. 
When I, who should protect, am — far away. — 
{Half aside) E'en as I led thee through the nether 

court, 
I mark'd the lustful eye of Mortimer ! — 

Aud. Prisoner, the allotted moments are expired. 

Cas. I will be brief.— If it must be, — my child, 
A sure and swift escape from ignominy 
Hath ever lain nearest my heart. — 'Tis here. — 
Dar'st thou receive it ,'' — Though the draught be 

death. 
From poison of a blacker, deadlier power — 
The taint impure — the blight of nameless shame — 
Should such assail — it will deliver thee ! — 
Dar'st thou receive it? — 

Eva. {after a pause) Give it me. 

Cas. Yet— oh ! 

Use it not rashly. — It may be that Heaven 
Reservt^s thee for a spotless life of bliss. — 
Farewell.~One last embrace — one lingering look. — 
{Holding her a little from himy Jhen snatching her 

to his bosom.) 
I cannot part with her! — 'l"'ake — take my life — 
But pluck not out my heart, while I am living ! — 
Inhuman murderers ! — Eva, my sweet child ! — 
Soul of my being!— -ha ! — she faints— her hands 
Relax their feeble hold — 



Act IV.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 53 

Eva. {falling back iiito the arms of the soldiers) 
Oh, mercy ! mercy ! — 
{She is dome off. Caswallon remiibis gazifig after 
her, till she is lost to his sight.) 

Cas. Now, to your dungeons — to my death, lead 
on. 
{He is going, when Fitz-Edward enters. He then 

, suddenly fiauses, and extends his hand so as to 
shut him from his sight.) 

jiud. Wilt not proceed ? 

Cas. My path's beset. — Look there ! — 

That reptile, there! — How shall I tread to 'scape 
him ? — {_Exit. 

Fitz-Ed. What may this mean ? — in chains, and 
separated ! — 
Where is the princess ? — My lord Mortimer, 
Was it not specially enjoin'd, when first 
I yielded these great captives to thy care, 
That all respect befitting their high rank — 
Ha! thou last not forgotten ? 

Mart. Hearken, youth : 

Throughout these walls hold I an absolute sway. 
Whether it be my pleasure to confine 
Or free— to pardon or condemn — to deal 
Immunity or death — I know no laws 
Should render me accountable to thee. 
Trust me, on this, as on all like occasions, 
I '11 act as it may suit the general weal ; 
Not shape my conduct but as it may hit 
The humours of an inexperienced boy, 

Fitz-Ed. Heard I aright ? To deal imnnunity 
Or death ; — as it may suit the general weal ! 
What is it then—? (Aside. J There 's that within 

his words, 
Shews like the serpent's eye of fire from out 
The obscurity that wraps him. In Heaven's name, 
What is 't you purpose ? 

JMort. I 'm not bound to lodre 



54 CASVVALLON, [Walker. 

My counsels in thy breast : — should they not square 
With tiiine own views- — 

Fiiz-Ed. My views ! 

Mort. Aye, thine. Dost think 

I cannot trace up to their rightful source 
These feelings for the prisoners ? The fair Eva, 
A lady of incomparable charms ! 
Of fortunes, too, well worth a young knight's mat- 
ing: 
Of royal birth, and — 

Fitz-Ed. Wretch! beneath all answer. 

Mort. Or is it that the old Caswallon — he — 
That restless ruffian — 

Fitz Ed. {indignantly and hasiily.) Name him 
not so lightly. 
It may be, lord, that thou hast yet to learn 
The ties that Nature hath iniposed between us : 
Know, then, that he, whom thy presumptuous 

speech 
Attacks in turns thus scornful, is my father: 
Nor think the son shall e'er stand tamely by 
To hear the sacred author of his being 
Insulted and defamed ! 

Mort. Soolh, then, 'twill tax 

Thy knighthoodship at every turn, or men 
Must exercise a most strange patience with thee : 
A patience that methinks the felon's son, 
The offspring of arch treabon— 

FitZ'Ed. Again ! But on — on with thy valiant 
taunts ! 
Oh, it is great, in truth, and well becomes thee. 
To stigmatise a chain'd and captive foe. 
Who, hadst thou fronted him in the fight, to earth 
Had fann'd thee with the waving of his sword ! 

Mort, And dost thou think me then — ? 

Fitz- Ed. I'll tell thee what. 

Or ask thine own heart ; it will answer thee. 
Nay, never grasp thy sword : if it be true, 



Act IV.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 55 

The nobly-minded only are the brave, 

Heaven knows, there's little to be fear'd from thee ! 

Mori. Audacious stripling! if another — 

Fitz-Ed, ' Faugh! 

Villain at once, and coward, 

Mort. Coward! 

Fitz-Ed. Yes, 

I said it, — coward ! receive it as you list ! 

Mort. Defied ! — ha! — hold my desperate hand :— 
to take 
His wretched life were worthless retribution. 
I will have lasting vengeance. Simple boy. 
Put up thy blade, nor think that Conway's lord 
Will ever stoop to measure swords with thee. 
To-morrow haply may bring down those looks: 
T'o morrow, when thou seest, as see thou shalt. 
Thy father, thine attainted rebel father 
iulfil his felon doom upon the block. 

Fitz-Ed. Thon dost not, dar'st not mean it! 

Mort. Thou shalt see. 

Ho ! — Audley. 

Enter Audley. Mortimer whis/iers in his ear and 
dismisses him. 

Fitz-Ed. Hateful wretch ' What have I done ! 
An icy sickness shoots through all my veins! 
My brain turns round! It:' it be thus indeed!, 
'Tis I — 'tis I who have prepared the block 
On which a parent dies ! — 'tis I who lift 
The fatal axe, who strike the severing blow: 
Murderer and parricide— I! — But no, the King, 
The King himself, shall do me inst-int justice. 
Ho! hark thee, Mortimer.— Detested fiend! 
That with the hungry vulture's horrid joy 
Dost revel in thy fellow-creatures' blood; 
The King is now at Chester, I thank Heaven ! 
At Chester; a few hours will bring me to him 
And, mark me, if ere I return thou darest 
To execute the deed thy speech imported, 



56 CASWALLON, [Walker. 

Th)^ life shall answer it ! Though mountains piled 
On mountains stood between us, still I'd climb, 
Headlong to hurl my vvrath in thunder down. 
And dash thee to perdition! Now to the King. 

Mort. Aye, to the King. — Go, cringe and fawn 
and flatter. 
Exert thy suhilest wiles, means may be found 
To cross them still. Look, to thyself, fair youth: 
Thy footing is not oversure: — I've said it : 
Look to thy tottering self. Fruitless the shield 
Even of a monarch's breast to shelter once. 
Thou slave of the despised Plantagenet, 
Beware the fate of Gavestone ! 

Fitz-Ed. So ! 

Mor. Rash fool! 

I have betray'd myself. 

Fitz-Ed. Thou double traitor ! 

False to thy trust, and — biat I loiter— ho ! — 
My horse. — So good and kind a Prince ! — beware 
The fate of Gavestone I— traitor !— and look thou 
To Lancaster's, whose head on Chester gates 
Attests the sure reward that waits on treason. 

Mort. Nay, then there's but one w a.y .—{Sta m/iing" 
ivith his foot.) 

Fitz Ed. What ho ! my horse — 

Ye lazy grooms— (c7*ossfs Mortimer, and is going out 
on the opposite side, ivhen Audley and guards 
enter and stop, him.) 

Mort. Guards, instantly arrest 

The knight Armyn Fitz-Ed ward.— He hath done 
Insult to Conway's Governor. — Away. 
Let him not speak ;— confine him, till you hear 
Our further orders. 

Fitz FA. Off, ye villain slaves! 

On vour allegiance, off!— I have news to tell 
The King.— 

Mort, Away with him ! — 

Fitz-Ed, Unhand me. — Hear me. — 

(//(? /« hurried off.) 



Act IV.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 57 

Mort. Away .—Why this was greatly done. — The 
boy 
Had wrought me mischief else. — Now there is time 
To breathe — to think — to act,— Soft— let me see : 
The father dies; but for the son— how now.^ 

Enter Audle? hastily. 

^ud. My lord— the prisoner — as we led him on 
Along the ramparts that o'erhang the moat- 
Desperate, and with a sudden bound, he broke 
From his attendants' hold, and headlong down 
Plunging,— 

Mor. Was buried in the waters } — 

Aud. No — 

Gained the opposing bank ; upon his steed, 
That staid for him beyond the outer gate. 
Swift vaulted, and with lightning speed — 

Mort. Escaped! 

Could not your arrows reach him ? - 

Oh fool— fool ! 
Escaped! — then I'm not safe within these walls 
One other day.— At once adieu to Conway. 
Yet, while my word is current, give command 
Caswallon meet his doom at morning dawn,— 
The fairer captive claims a different fate : 
Of her anon.— Much must be done ere morn. 

Exeunt at difftrent sides. 

END OF ACT IV. 



ACT v.— Scene I — An antique Afiartment, 
Eva discovered leaning against a pillar. 

Eva. So.— The last star hath faded— and 'tis day. 
Returning morn hath summ-in'd into shape 
Each horrible object round. — Let not mine eye 
Dwell on them; but away from these drear walls, 
Bearing my thought in kindly company, 
Escape to my dear native hills. — 



58 CASWALLON, [Walker. 

Alas !— 
How cheerily yon mountain doth reflect 
The vivid tints of morn : — the thin white mists 
Do part from it like a discarded slumber; 
And there it rises in the calm, cool air, 
Rejoicing in each gentle breeze that wafts 
Freshness, and gladness, and sweet health around. 
Oh ! that my spirit could take wing, and bear me 
To mingle with — ha! — hark! — there's some one 

comes. — 
Good angels guard me! — ( JS/oise of falling chains. 
The door is ofienedy and enter Mortimer.) 
Mortimer ! — 

Mor. Young maid, 

I come to tell thee — but by Heaven, thy youth, 
Thy beauty, that sweet deprecating look 
And bashfulness of gesture, doth almost 
Make utterance of the word impossible — 
I come to tell thee that the assembled court 
Already hath pronounced upon thy crimes, 
And thou art doom'd to die. — 

Eva. Die, my lord ? — die I 

*Tis terrible— 'tis sudden ! — and my father ? 

Mort. Thy father, maid?— 

Eva. No — not my father — yes — 

My heart's acknowledged father! — what of him ? 
What is his doom? 

Mort. His life is forfeit too. 

Eva. Oh no — beseech thee, no : — let mine suffice- 
Cheerfully will I lay it down, so he 
May live : — Oh let him live ! — whate'er he did, 
*Twas done for me. I am the guilty one — 
I — I alone, — let not the innocent suffer — 
Beseech thee let him live. 

Mort. I have spoken, maiden ; 

He hath deserved his sentence — but for thee — 
Shall I confess it? — shall I say my heart 
Trembling owns it is most hard for thee — 
For one so young and beautiful to die. 



Act IV.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 59 

How wilt thou bear the ribald scoff, the jest— 
The gaze of shouting multitude — the grasp 
Of the rude headsman, as from off thy neck 
He tears that jealous mantle's crowded folds ? 
And yet all this awaits thee — 

£va. Cruel man ? 

Have ye not said I must endure it ? 

Mort. Maid — 

Wish you to 'scape from this ? wish you for life ? 
It may be yours. — 

Eva. (eagerly ) Oh speak : — ah me! my heart— 
My coward heart! 'twas but e'en now 1 pray'd 
For death — and do I shrink at his approach ? 
Yet speak. — 

Mort. At once then to lay bare my heart- 

Eva, I love thee — nay, my gentle maid — 
Turn not away — thou shalt be happy yet. 
I have the power to save thee — the sure means 
To snatch thee from the headsman's lifted axe. 
Come thou with me : — together let us fly 
These death-denouncing towers ; — this key unlocks 
A wicket that shall open safety to thee : — 
Come then, ere yet it be too late — and if 
The tenderest, truest love — 

Eva. Oh Heaven! Oh Heaven! 

Sustain me — strengthen me! — my father! — now 
Thy last words ring in my distracted brain! 
(To Mortimer.) Unhand me. 

Mort. Eva ! what wild thoughts are these } 

Eva. {Resolvedly y and with an air of majesty.^ 
Lord Mortimer — you hitherto have known me 
But as a timid maid, who dared not lift 
Her eyes up from the ground whereon you trod: 
Whose every word came with a sob-like sound — 
And every limb betray'd too visibly 
The heart's internal terror: — you have seen me 
Shuddering and humbled even to your feet : 
But now I rise — I shake aside all fear — 
And feel myself the daughter of Lewellyn! 



60 CASWALLON, [Walker. 

Lead to the block ! Methinks my father's spirit 
!Now o'er me stands — the blood of all my race 
Is gather'd round my heart, and aids me thus 
To scorn thee, and defy thee! Lead to the block! 

Mort. Thou dost reject my tender, then ? 

Eva, Thy love ? 

To fly with thee ? — rather to instant death. 

Mort. Aye, and thou shalt ^yet think awhile, rash 
girl- 
E'en now the scaffold waits thee ; the fierce scorns. 
And shames, and jests of circling multitudes 
Are ready to be heap'd on thee : and thou 
May'st fly from this to life and liberty. 
Think — think and choose. 

Eva. I have already chosen. 

If that mine hour is come, summon thy guards 
To lead me forth. 

Mort. I will : but not to death. 

No, gentle maid ; the coarse, officious handling 
O' th' executioner would ill become 
Those delicate limbs; that soft and snowy neck 
Was never iorm'd to meet the smiting axe. 
Thou shalt not die. Spite of thyself, I must, 
I will preserve thee. Hear me. — 

E-ua. Oh, how long 

Must I endure this language ? 

Mort. I had hoped 

That soft persuasion, and that natural fear. 
With which the bravest of us look on death. 
Would have subdued this folly. But away 
With arguments that help not. — I must force 
Compliance from thee. — Know that there are those 
Now waiting my command to bear thee off — 
I haste to summon them. {Going.) 

E-va. Stay — stay — my cries 

Shall rouse the castle. Stay — 

Mort. ( contem/ituously.) Thy cries ! As soon 
They would be heard, as on high Snowdon's top 
The herdsman's whistle in the wilds below. 



Act v.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 61 

Eva. Oh, mercy — on my knees I do adjure thee — 
Take me not from these walls: I am prepared 
To die within them : 1 will meet the axe 
With silent lips, and an unshuddering frame; 
Oh, mercy ! man of ])arposes more fell 
Than murder, mercy — mercy! {Clinging to him.) 

Mort. Frantic girl, 

It is to save thy life. 

JEva. {still on her kneeSy and clinging to him.) For 
worse — far worse 
Than fifty thousand deaths! Oh, hear me — hear 
me. {He breaks from her^ and exit.) 

{A bell tolls.) 

Eva. What meant the tolling of that bell ! I've 
heard 
That such a sound should speak the leading forth 
To death of the conden^n'd My father, then — 
*Tis for my father that it tolls ! E'en now 
He dies ! — e'en new, perhaps, with frantic voice 
Calling on me ! His cries are in my brain — 
I hear them ! Murder! murder! Hark, a sound 
Of trampling feet ! — They come to drag me hence. — 
No gleam of help — of hope ! Heaven, in its mercy. 
Preserve, or quickly end me! {She rushes into un 

inner afiartment. The front door is o/iened^ and 

Mortimer, with Audley and another^ enter through 

it. 

Mort. {fiointing to the inner afiartment.) Follow 
quick — 
Ye have the key of yonder wicket— that 
Secures her mine. I will remove le guard, 
Then join ye with all speed. — Awt-./ and prosper. 

[^exit Mortimer. 

{They follonu Eva into the afiartment ; the bell 
still tolling at intervals.) 
6 



62 CASWALLON, [Walker. 



Scene II. — A Court in Conway CastlCy with Turrets 
on either side^ and a large closed Gateway in front. 
Bell tolls. 

Enter Harcourt, Caswallon, and guards. 

Har. Here halt awhile. — Ere we unclose the gate 
— Chieftain. — 

Cas. ( Who has been anxiously looking around for 
Eva.) She is not here. — And I had arm'd 
My heart to see her — ah! no — no — my child — 
I never could have borne to see her die. — 
And yet a parting — 

Har. Prisoner ! — 

Cas. Well, Sir— well— 

I'm ready — did they see me droop ? {aside) — proceed; 
Why did ye pause ? — I neither ask'd nor wish'd it. 

Har. Mistake me not. — This is thy latest stage. — 
Look round thee. — Yonder closed gate alone 
Divides thee from the scaffold. — 

Cas. Bid it open. — 

1 can endure the sight. — Thou shalt not see me. 
Be sure on't, walk with soul or step less firm, 
Than when I trod upon your necks in battle. — 

Har. Hold yet awhile. — Cambrian I speak to thee 
In kindness — hear me, nor misjudge my motive. 
In the late wars, amid the whirl of fight. 
Fate threw my father to thy conquering sword. 
And thou did'st spare him. — Is there aught then — 

say — 
Of worldly care that weighs upon my mind ; 
Wish unexprest, or unbequeathed charge — 
I'll do thy bidding faithfuly. 

Cas. I thank thee. — 

Nothing. — And yet a thought — a wish there was — 
Thou art not mocking me.-* — 

Har. Thou dost not think it. 

'Twas ne'er my wont to sport with the afflicted. — 



Act v.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 63 

Cas. Men's eyes are on us: — yet a word — my 
child- 
Sir — I have ever called her so. — My child — 
What — is to be — her fate ? — 

Har. Would I could tell thee ! 

A convent it may be. — 

Cas. My innocent child ! 

All angels, stooping from their bri,8;ht abodes, 
Behold and guard her ! — haply, wrien I'm dead, 
Thou wilt convey to her — ^wilt tell her, sir. 
That with my latest dying breath I bless'd — 
Tell her — [much agitated, then^ as if unnuilling that 
Harcourt should behold it] — lead on : — it mat- 
ters not. 

Nar. Unbar 

The portal gate — and let the prisoner — 

{The gates are thrown ofien — and the scaffold is dia- 
closed. U/ion it stands the Executioner with his 
axe, and around, a multitude of Sfiectators. In 
the back ground are visible the distant Mountains 
ofArvon: at the sight of which Caswallon, who 
had advanced towards the gateway, suddenly Jiau- 
ses.) 

Cas. {with a burst offiride and pleasure) — Ha ! 
My native hills ! Saxon I did not think. 
Your jealous rulers would in aught have given 
Caswallon cause for thanks! — 'tis here !■ — 'tis here! 
My native mountains! — your attesting gaze 
Shall cheer me in my death ! — my parting soul 
Shall be exhaled into the air — itself 
As free — the air that clothes your star-crown'd sum- 
mits. 
Oh ye, my rugged, kind, and constant friends — 
The nurses of my earliest years — the stay 
And solace of my latest — smile upon me ! 
Bear witness, what I still have lived, I die. 
That which you made me ; with your noble forms 
Inspiring correspondent thoughts, and knitting 



64 CASWALLON, Walker. 

My spirit to a kindred hardihood. 
Bear witness that, though vainly, I have fought 
Valiantly in your cause ; and that the wish 
Next to this heart, after that dearest one 
To free, was still to fall for vou. Farewell. 
On to the block ! 

(He has now reached the Scaffoldy nvhen a loud 
shaut is heard, and De Lacy^s voice exclaiming^) 

Stay, stop the execution, — 

Upon your lives I charge you : — give me way — 

It is the King's command. 

(He rushes in, followed by Ormsby and FitZ'Ed- 
ivard hearing Eva, J 

Cas. ( Rushing from the Scaffold and catching her 

in his arms.) My child ! 
Fitz-Ed. ( Drofifiing on his knees.) — He lives ! 
Thank Heaven! thank Heaven! — I have not sped" 
in vain. 
Orms. ( To Harcourt and shewing a written fiarch- 
ment.) 
Sir Officer — release the prisoner. — Lo! 
Your warrant for it. 

De La. And hark you — ere he leave 

These towers, secure the traitor Mortimer. — 
There's your authority ;—(6YnA-z>2^ the parchment 
ivhicn Ormsby has delivered to Harcourt.) 
the King's own seal. — 
About it instantly. (Harcourt bows and withdraws.') 

Cas. {clasfiiiig Eva.) My beautiful child ! 
My peerless and my pure ! — It is no dream : — 
Again I hold thee to my heart. Again — 
Oh, Gods! this rush of transport will destroy me! 
FitZ'Ed. {with exultation.) 'Twas I ! — *twas 1 

who saved her ! — To the earth 
smote the villains who were bearing her 
Out at the portal. Now, my father, own, 
Hast thou not wrong'd me ? — 

Cas. {intent on Eva.) Soft — she speaks — her voice 



Act V.J OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 65 

Once more shall pour its music on my soul. 

Why dost thou shun me, Eva ? — Heaven ! how pale 

Thou look'st. — Lean— lean on me. 

Eva, {with a ivild took of horror.) What have I 
done ? — 
O ! do not look so 'overjoy 'd, my father ! — 
Thou dost not- know — 

Cas. Knov/ what ? — 1 have thee here— 

How can I not be joyous ? — Why dost tremble ? — 
All here are friends. — 

Eva. Oh ! and we might have been 

So blest ! — that villain Mortimer — 

Cas, (alarmed) How? — what? — 

He had thee in his power — ? 

Eva. He had — and threaten'd — 

Cas. Threaten'd ! 

Eva. Thy last words — oh ! I cannot speak. 

Cas. Not speak } — My heart is throbless till it 
hear thee. 
In pity to its agonies, proceed 
He had thee in his power — but thou wert saved ? 

Eva., Aye, from his loath'd embrace, but not from 
sin — 
From Heav'n-distrusting phrensy ! — I had heard 
That thou wert doom'd to die: — the bell toU'd out, 
To tell me they were leading thee to death. 
I madden'd at the sound. Even at that hour 
Fell Mortimer approach'd with purpose vile, 
To drag me from these walls. Distracted, wild, — 
*Twas then, thy last words working in my brain, 
I thought of thy last gift — and, terrible sin ! 
Drank up thy deadly poison! 

Fitz-Ed. Poison ! poison ! 

Thou dost not mean — my heart is crush 'd to atoms ! 
If this be true — 

Eva. Oh ! do not hate me thou — 

It was in madness that I err'd. Dear youth, 
Look on me. — Ah ! my swimming brain — 

Fitz-Ed. (running to clas/i her J She dies! 

e* 



65 CASWALLON, [Walker. 

Cas, Off. Shall it be in any arms but mine ? — 
Though I have murder'd her. — Thou pure and 

blameless ! 
Yes ; I have murder'd thee. The sin was mine — 
Mine be the punishment! — Avenging Heaven! 
Am I not punish'd now ? 

Fitz Ed. Accursed act ! — 

And you could arm with the fell means of death. 
The maid that — but no — no — 'tis plain in this 
You never loved her. 

Cas. Never lov'd her !— what, 

My child here ? — never loved her ! — have I lived ? — 
She was the spirit that v^arm'd me — my heart's 

blood. 
Its pulse, soul, life, and essence. — Never loved, 
For that I'd rather see her dead, than flung 
To nameless shame ? — Look on me. — Whence these 

tears, 
That, strangers to m.ine eyes for twenty winters, 
Now rive their frozen sources? — Whence this heart 
Now bleeding, breaking, bursting— never loved her! 
E-va. It was his anguish, not his heart that spoke. 
Oh, my dear Father ! would'stthou shed the balm 
Of peace upon my parting spirit— take 
To thy forgiving breast this noble youth.— 
Yet, ere I die, let me but hear thee bless him; — 
And— oh! how cold it grows — 
( With a feeble and im/i loving voice to Caswallon) 
My Father!— Father— 
Cas. There— die in peace, sweet saint! — Bless 
thee, boy— bless thee. 
{Grasfiin^ his hand, but with his eyes still Jixed on 
Eva) 
Eva. It is enough. — Dear Armyn! fare thee well. 
'Tis no sin now to say how near my heart — 
Oh, Armyn ! I have ever loved thee fondly— 
Forget me— 

FitZ'Ed. {franticly) This to hear, and thus to 
lose thee! — 



Act v.] OR THE BRITON CHIEF. 67 

*Tis more than lean bear.— My reeling sense 
Sinks under it. — 

Jiva. {very faint) Oh! I am dying now. — 

I feel it. There steals o*er me such a sleep — 
It creeps through all my veins into my heart — 
It draws my eyelids down in spite of me. — 
Father ! where art thou .^— let me feel thine hand 
Within my own. — Oh, bless thee '.— Mercy, Heaven ! 
{Caswallon lets her gently cJownfroin his armSy and 
remains fixedly bending over her,) 
Fitz-Ed. Dead! — dead! — she is not dead — not 
yet : — those eyes 
Have only closed in sleep. — Ha! is 't not so? — 
Then bring me poison too. — Oh, blessed sword! — 
Thus — thus I may defy — {Attemjaing to stab him- 
self, De Lacy seizes his arm.) 
De La- Thou madman, hold! — 

I'itZ'Ed. Oh cruel — oh ye Heavens! — 
De La. Look to the father there. — 

Beshrew me, but my heart is rent in twain 
To see this sight. — 

Orms. Best lead him from the corse. — 

{Afifiroaching,) Chieftain ! — 

De La. He hears thee not. — ) 

Orms. Caswallon! — 

Cas. (turning rounds but ivith his arms sti/iciaa/i- 
ing Eva. J No! — 

Ye shall not take her from me. — Here I '11 hold 
An everlasting vigil ! — ah fool ! fool I 

{In a subdued and humble tone.) 
I know that I 'm your slave — and I must do 
Just as you bid :— but pray, be pitiful !— 
She 's dead — but not to me.--I cannot let 
The cold earth have her yet. — Heaven keep my wits 

{Clasfiing his brain — then suddenly 
Whose voice was that.^ heard ye it not? oh! well 
I know the sound — though many years have sped 
Since last it smote upon mc ; — 'tis Lewellyn** ! 



68 CASWALLON, 8cc. [Walker. 

How shall I meet his frown ? — 

{Looking- u/i.) No~no— he smiles. 
Ashe vas wont, upon me;— he extends 
His eager arms, and— ha! it is herself! 

(Starting nuildlij from the ground) 
With an instinctive knowledge she springs forth 
To clasp him---and together up they soar 
In radiance through the skies ! — 
Stay for me, Eva— stay ^or me— my child !-— 
A moment— and I 'm with thee 

{falls back and dies,) 



FINIS. 



MAY 31 1901 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper proce; 
Neutralizing agent; Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: May 2009 

PreservationTechnologie 

A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATI 

111 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
(724)779-2111 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




014 549 978 1 ♦ 



